She'd learned a lot. A lot more than she ever knew was possible. About her royal heritage, about the history of both the state of Sarawak and Malaysia itself, about the palace in which she and her father had now been living for two weeks. Tin-Tin frowned as she stepped up to the thrones, her hand running down the side and over the arm of that belonging to the male member of the royal family. The batik was soft to her fingers. The exquisite wood finish felt the same, as soft as silk.

Her father. He'd grown much worse. She looked out over the room from the place she had agreed to take on as her own. Today, she would be crowned Sultana of Sarawak. Her father couldn't do it, not in his failing health. Tears sprang to her eyes. It had come to the point where he didn't remember anything about Tracy Island or International Rescue. She'd cried terribly, and fought the urge to do so now as she recalled the conversation not three days before.

"Father, perhaps it would be best for you to return to Tracy Island." He had seemed perplexed; the look on his face spoke of confusion in his mind. "You know Brains is a genius. If anyone can determine the cause of this illness, he can do it. I know he can." He still did not speak, just stared at her. "Father, I'm certain if I call Mr. Tracy, he'll send one of the boys in a jet immediately."

At last, he spoke. "Mr. Tracy?"

Her heart had frozen in mid-beat. "Yes," she had replied. "Mr. Tracy." But he still looked lost. "You know, Father, your best friend. Jeff Tracy."

"Who," he asked, eyes wide and uncertain, "is Jeff Tracy?"

It had almost been too much for her to bear. Her father had returned to life through some sort of magickal miracle involving his counterpart from another dimension, only to now be losing everything that made him who he was. It was beyond her understanding, and in his current state, beyond her father's as well.

She moved down off the dais and over to the far wall. The stonework of Sarawak Palace was as ancient as Sarawak itself. And as complex, she noted, running her hand along the intricately carved pictograms, as her own history seemed to be. Tin-Tin had been stunned to learn her father wasn't one hundred percent native Malay at all, but a mix of British, Malay and Arabian ancestry. That's where his given name of Meor had come from. Her grandmother, Nuraisyah, was a direct descendant of Mohammad's only surviving relative, his daughter, Fatima, and Meor indicated a male descendant of the founder of the Muslim religion.

And her grandfather, Mokhtar, once a ruling Rajah of Sarawak, had been killed by her half-uncle, the throne stolen from her family before she'd yet turned five years of age. He had been half British and half Malay, and Nuraisyah had been half Arabian, half Malay. Tin-Tin walked along the wall, not really seeing the stone beneath her hand now. Her father was half Malay, one-quarter Arabian and one-quarter British. And Tin-Tin's own mother had been an American, though she had yet to uncover what exactly Serena Kyrano's heritage had been.

Soon she reached the far corner of the grand ceremony room. There was so much about her own blood that she didn't know. And now she couldn't even ask her father about it because he didn't remember more than bits and pieces of his life. It reminded her of Alzheimer's disease, something she'd learned about extensively, and had even written a thesis paper on. Her theories on using nanotechnology to replace misfiring neurons and degrading pathways had opened the door for new research into curing the dreaded disease she'd investigated as part of her senior engineering coursework.

But she knew that something far more strange was at work. Her father's brain scans had turned up something even the best neurologist in Kuala Lumpur hadn't been able to explain. His exact words still haunted her. "It's as though his memories are just...erasing themselves." She came to the large, wooden double doors at the opposite end of the room from the throne. Stopping, she turned to face that throne. The throne she had agreed to take. Soon this room would be full of palace staff setting up the traditional candles and incense burners; cleaning every nook and cranny, preparing for the crowd that was sure to attend the event.

And she would be crowned sultana.

One question nagged her over and over. Am I doing the right thing? Half of her wanted to just abandon the whole thing and head back to the Tracys with her father. She missed them terribly, and knew how difficult things were for them now as they struggled to put both Tracy Corporation and International Rescue back together. She missed her hours in the lab with Brains, and time with the Tracy sons going over and over schematics and designs and plans. Most of all, she missed Alan. Alan, whom she loved.

She could never marry him now. Though her own blood was not of pure Malay ancestry, she had been born into a royal family. As an American, Alan would never be permitted to become her husband. She would have to abdicate the throne to fulfill that dream she'd had for so long. Besides, right now, Alan Tracy hated her.

You could fix that. Why are you doing this? Your home...your heart...is on Tracy Island.

"Because they need me," she whispered, the soft sound echoing briefly in the cavernous room. Her people...her father's people...they needed her now more than ever. Needed someone who could keep them neutral even as surrounding countries fell into unrest and politically-related killings increased. The mayhem had been quelled in Malaysia itself for the time being, but without someone strong to lead the fight for continued neutrality, there was little doubt the country would easily be swayed into joining with countries like Indonesia and China. Tin-Tin could not let that happen. Many in Malaysia were poor, especially the natives. No one cared about them. If the country became involved in what was happening in other Asian nations, who knew what would become of the Malay people and their way of life?

Mixed though they may have been, Tin-Tin and her father had always considered themselves Malay first and foremost, and the truth was that both their identities were so intertwined with Malaysia, at least in their minds, that every incident, every hint of violence, everything that happened in the country, Tin-Tin felt to her very marrow. She didn't suppose she could ever properly explain it to anyone. It was just something she felt, deep inside. Stepping onto Malay soil, touring the streets of Sibu and other prominent cities in Sarawak had brought Tin-Tin a feeling of coming home that she'd never felt before.

Not that it had been lonely or any less of a home when she and her father lived on Tracy Island. No, they had never felt more loved and welcomed than they had there. But somehow a part of her had always longed for Malaysia. With an invisible tether she had been kept tied to the country of her birth, and now that she had returned, she felt complete. Whole. Like she'd finally come full circle.

Then why do you cry at night for the one you left behind?

She walked up the green carpet that led to the dais, slowly practicing the steps she would take in less than six hours' time, to the sound of native music and murmurs of approval from those in the room. What had Badan said? They know if you take power, you will keep Malaysia neutral. This, she felt, was the reason her path had come around now and brought her home. Her time in school, her time with the Tracys, her time as part of International Rescue, had all provided her with the training, knowledge and discipline she would need to become ruler of Sarawak. And, if the conditions in the rest of the states did not improve considerably, potentially become ruler of half the country.

"My whole life has led up to this," she said, heading back toward the door to the left of the dais. "It's what I'm meant to do." But her furrowed brow and hesitant step made it clear that even Tin-Tin wasn't certain that what she was doing was right.

And without her father's counsel, for the first time in her life she was flying blindly. Alone. Making decisions in the dark. She walked slowly down the hall toward her spacious bedroom suite, whispered voice repeating, "It's what I'm meant to do."

Jeff looked out over the vast Pacific Ocean. On his balcony he stood, a towel wrapped around his waist, skin glistening as the remnants of his recent shower reflected the sun's brilliant rays. He glanced at the old wall clock his mother had given to him. Just after 10:15 a.m. He'd begun rising later and later, he noticed. Not good for a man with so much to do. But when you stayed up until 3, 4 or 5 a.m., it went without saying you'd probably be in bed 'til at least 10. He stifled a yawn and tousled his damp hair in the mid-morning breeze.

The island had been so quiet. Quiet because there were no rescues. They'd turned off the auto-relay to Five. None of them could bear listening to the calls for help that they could not answer. True to his word, Ned Cook had been deflecting media attention away from the fact that Tracys had been injured at the same time International Rescue had disappeared. So far, so good on that front. He'd spoken to Ned frequently during their first week home. Only once this week so far, and it was nearly the beginning of the third week.

Quiet because half of his family was gone. Alan, Gordon and John were scouting the new locations for Tracy Corporation. They had long ago agreed it would no longer be New York City. The land where Tracy Tower had once stood would be dedicated to all those who had lost their lives with a beautiful monument that John and Scott had designed together. Jeff had to smile. The hours those two had spent coming up with the thirty-story monument had been the most harmonious he thought he'd ever heard them share. Two more days and the boys would be ready for him to join them. They'd update him, give him their recommendations and let him make the final decision. And then the building would begin.

Quiet because Brains, Scott and Virgil had been spending every waking hour in Brains' laboratory drawing up schematics for the new Thunderbirds One, Two and Four. They'd sent teams of agents out to the crash sites for both aircraft only to find that Tin-Tin had done a remarkably efficient job of hiding anything that could identify the remnants as more than just downed nondescript planes. He'd never been more proud of her than the moment the reports had come in telling him as much.

His face fell and his heart suddenly felt like it weighed twenty more pounds. Placing his hands on the railing, he leaned forward on his arms for support, looking down at the leafy foliage and lava rock below his balcony. Quiet because of the loss he felt most deeply of all. The Kyranos had been gone for two weeks now. Two long weeks which Jeff had filled with monuments and schematics, plans and job offers, buildings and parts. Rebuilding his corporation. Rebuilding his Thunderbirds. Rebuilding International Rescue. Rebuilding himself.

But some parts of you just couldn't be rebuilt.

Lady Penelope had left earlier in the week, begging time away for concerns on her own side of 'the pond,' as she called it. Jeff really hadn't had much time for her, but she'd been so busy on the vidphone with contacts around the world trying to verify the death of the Hood that she'd barely had time to talk to him, either. When she wasn't investigating, she was offering some new ideas to Brains for the Thunderbirds that came from her years in the field of spy work. Oftentimes he'd catch her looking at him as he walked by or as they worked side-by-side to update International Rescue's list of agents and locations.

But right now, he could offer her nothing, and even with the silence he'd given her, he somehow thought she understood. Looking down at his chest, stomach and legs, he noted with satisfaction that the healthy diet he'd finally begun on combined with at least an hour a day working out with Virgil had done the trick in getting him physically back on the road to becoming the strong, virile man he'd once been.

But Virgil's weights and Penny's demure looks across a room couldn't help Jeff repair his heart and soul. He hadn't realized until after Kyrano's departure exactly how much he'd come to depend on him for more than keeping the household running smoothly. Any time something was on his mind, Kyrano would always know and seek him out. And, more often than not, would somehow get it out of him, get Jeff to talk about it and give gentle advice that steered him in the right direction without sounding like he was preaching.

He'd always had that way of helping Jeff whether he wanted the help or not.

But now there wasn't anyone seeking him out and saying, "I know there is much on your mind." Now that source of strength and solace was gone, and it left an aching hole in Jeff's psyche. He knew what had happened in Manhattan wasn't his fault. He'd come to terms with the fact that what had happened had happened, and he was no longer blaming himself. The loss of the employees, all those people...Jeff closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt that as keenly as he would've if he'd known each and every one of them by name.

Rosemary. God, how he missed her. She'd been so essential to him, to his family. To Tracy Corp and International Rescue. She'd known who they were. Known their secret. It was Rosemary who kept everything together. Jeff would laugh when someone would mention his "secretary," for she'd always been so much more. Right there with him from the beginning, she was as much a part of Jeff's family as his own sons. And yet she was, presumably, dead, just like all the others. So many innocent lives lost. So many that International Rescue couldn't hope to save.

International Rescue. Down. Not operating. For the first time in six years, dead in the water. Just yesterday, a 7.7 earthquake had rocked Japan. They could do nothing to help. Three days prior, a cruise ship went down eighty miles north of Hawaii. Hundreds died. The week before that, just after their return to the island, a monorail had gone out of control and wound up wrecking four buildings in downtown Los Angeles. Nothing he, or his sons, could do. It was heartbreaking to watch their faces as they listened to Ned reporting on the latest disaster. But the only words he ever spoke about IR in those broadcasts were at the end of the report. Always the same. "We can only hope that International Rescue will return to us. For without them, we die."

Ruth had gone to the States to visit her sister, who was in failing health. Jeff fervently hoped his Aunt Mamie wouldn't die any time soon. She was his mother's last surviving sibling, and she loved Mamie dearly. On top of everything else, Ruth didn't need that. Even with Scott, Virgil and Brains on the island, Jeff felt more than just a little lonely. What had his mother said to him once in the middle of the night? He remembered all four earthbound sons had gone out on a rescue, along with both Tin-Tin and Brains. Alan had been manning Five, and Kyrano had taken a trip to Sydney to do some shopping for necessities. She'd come shuffling into the Lounge, taken one look at him and said, "It's lonely at the top, isn't it, Jeff?"

At the time, he hadn't understood why she'd said it. Now, though, he did. He'd delegated as his body recovered from broken vertebrae, as he exercised and got himself back into shape enough to be able to walk from one end of the villa to the other without twisting and gasping in pain. All that delegation had left him pretty much alone. In his study, at his desk in the Lounge...no matter where he was, he was acutely aware of how much he and his family had lost, and how much further south his own state of mind was moving.

But Jeff had been brought up to believe that a man helped himself. His father, Grant, had drilled one thought into his head over and over and over again. "When the locusts hit, you reach down, grab your bootstraps and pull yourself back up, son." Never one to ask for help unless there was absolutely no other choice, Grant Tracy had that kind of stubborn independence that drove you crazy but made you admire him more than anyone else in the world. At least, that's how it had made Jeff feel. He knew he'd disappointed his father by not following in his footsteps, but Jeff had known from an early age that he just didn't want to be a farmer for the rest of his life. Chores while he was living at home, he could handle. Having to get up at 4 a.m. every day forever to milk cows, having to worry about storm clouds on the horizon every time a ripe wheat field was sitting there at the mercy of hail and hard rain...it just wasn't Jeff's mug of cocoa, as his mother used to say.

"Isn't it 'cup of tea,' Mother?"

"You drink tea all you want, Jeff. I'm a cocoa girl myself."

He chuckled, realizing that he'd been standing there for nearly thirty minutes. His skin and hair had completely dried as the sun climbed ever-higher in the sky. He turned, pulling his towel away and crossing the room to the bathroom to hang it up. First, he'd get dressed. Then he'd check in with John, Gordon and Alan who were presently in Kansas staying at the old family farm while they scouted the proposed headquarters site near Rocky Ford. Close to Tuttle Creek State Park and the Big Blue River, it was a pleasant location, and Jeff liked the fact that it was in his home state. It would mean visits to HQ were also visits home. And Kansas was pretty inexpensive, especially out that far. It would do wonders for the local economy, and he was looking forward to joining his sons there in a couple of days.

After that call would come a check-in with Penny over in England. It was around 11:45 p.m. there, but he knew Penelope would still be awake. As much of a hard time as she'd given Jeff about being a workaholic, it was very nearly a case of the proverbial pot and kettle. Once Penny had something in mind, it was impossible to get her to let go of it. And she was hell-bent on proving that the Hood was dead once and for all. An assurance that right now, they all needed.

Jeff rummaged through his dresser drawers until he found a pair of comfortable shorts. A look in his closet found him an old Air Force tee shirt, which he quickly slipped over his head. Running a hand through his hair one more time, he took a good look at himself in the mirror. Not looking too bad, he thought. For a man with the world to rebuild.

Two worlds, actually. One public, one not-so-public. A family that had been through more than most people had in a lifetime. Family members that were gone. He wondered about the Kyranos, about how they were doing. So lost in his own sadness over missing them, he'd not even attempted to contact them once. An e-mail had come from Tin-Tin earlier in the week. Polite and business-like, she had explained that she would be taking the throne in Sarawak, and that her father would be staying on as her advisor. The news had cut Jeff to the quick. Deep inside, he realized, he'd been secretly hoping they wouldn't stay there.

"Selfish bastard," he muttered, sliding a pair of flip-flops onto his feet. "Jeff Tracy, you are nothing but a selfish bastard."

A selfish bastard who missed his best friend desperately. He sighed heavily as the door to his suite hissed open.

Damn.

Kyrano looked at himself in the mirror. He knew his name. He knew where he was. And he knew that today his daughter would be crowned queen. A princess for barely a fortnight, she was today going to take on a role he'd never dreamed she'd have to. His pride in his daughter was, however, overshadowed by his concern for her.

And for himself.

He knew something was desperately wrong. His past came to him only in snatches of conversation, in mini-movies that half the time he did not understand. He couldn't remember Tin-Tin's mother's name. Or he couldn't remember the village where he'd been born and raised. Or he couldn't remember what he'd been doing for the past fifteen years. He knew it upset Tin-Tin. Hell, it upset him. But there was nothing he could do. She'd suggested he meditate. He couldn't remember how. She'd suggested he see a medical doctor. And so he had, to no avail. And she'd suggested some island somewhere. Then, when he didn't recognize the name she was giving him, she'd run from the room crying.

What was that name again? Jeff? Yes, that was it. Jeff...Something. He couldn't even remember that. He felt incomplete. Alone. Like he'd been hit over the head and was suffering from amnesia. She'd said he'd died and come back to life. Impossible as that seemed, he couldn't verify it as truth or fabrication. He just didn't remember.

But there was one thing...rather, one man...that he did remember. A man who frightened him. A man he knew was his own half-brother. He looked at the face in the mirror and touched his fingertips to his cheek. It was like looking at someone you didn't recognize. You knew it was supposed to be you, but you had nothing save the face looking back at you in the mirror to verify that it really was.

Kyrano closed his eyes. He had to keep himself together, if only for today. He had to make the appearance in front of the crowds of people so that his daughter would have her wish – a coronation that went off without incident. He had to remember what to say and when to say it, and he would symbolically place the white turban with the beautiful green gem upon her head. Then it would be done, and he could continue to lose himself in the privacy of his own suite.

His own suite that he didn't know. It didn't feel like home, but he supposed that's because it never had been his home until recently. If only he could remember. If only he could understand the gaping holes in his mind. If only he could help his daughter now when she needed him the most. But I cannot, he thought as his eyes slowly opened. He fully expected to see that face again...his face...looking back at him in the mirror.

And it was there. But it wasn't alone.

He gasped as his eyes took in the visage returning his gaze. Jumping backward, he couldn't take his eyes from it. From him. He knew that face. He doubted even with his loss of memory that he would ever be able to forget it.

"Radzi," he whispered.

He didn't understand. Why...was he reflecting his brother? Tin-Tin had told him Gaat was dead. Repeatedly, she had told him this. Kyrano whirled around, but there was no one else with him in the gigantic bedroom. He turned back to the mirror, but the face of his half-brother was gone. Once again, he saw only himself.

"Why?" he whispered. Why would he be seeing Radzi now? In his own reflection?

Suddenly memories returned. Lying on the floor, writhing in pain. Collapsing in a garden, crying out, "No, no, no!" What if Radzi were dead? If he'd had the power to invade Kyrano's mind when he was alive, who's to say his power would not be even greater in death thanks to the pact he'd made with Evil? Kyrano stepped forward and touched the mirror with his fingertips. Still, his own reflection remained.

"He is coming," Kyrano thought as he stepped back once more. "He means to take me, take my body." He turned and looked around the opulent suite, then back at the mirror again. "If he takes me, my daughter is as good as dead. I must leave. I must!"

With that, he moved across the room to his closet and began pulling various articles of clothing out.

"I have to leave," he whispered, folding the clothes neatly into a suitcase. "My daughter is not safe."

But what of her coronation?

Kyrano closed his eyes as he finished zipping up the suitcase. He fell onto the bed in a sitting position, hanging his head dejectedly.

Tin-Tin's finest moment. I cannot miss it.

But he would leave, after the ceremony. If he didn't...that face in the mirror...Radzi would claim him. And after him, Tin-Tin. And then Sarawak and Malaysia and any other countries his half-brother deemed worthy of his time and effort.

Yes, the only choice he could see would be to leave. Perhaps if he traveled to the Snake Temple on the island of Penang he would find whatever it was he needed to become whole again. He couldn't remember whether or not he practiced Buddhism, but it didn't really matter because what he needed was a way to get himself back, and do it away from this palace.

Kyrano turned and looked into the mirror once more. He also wished he remembered this person Jeff that his daughter had told him was his best friend. Because right now, he sure could've used a best friend.

"Where'd Brains go?"

Virgil turned and looked up from his seat at one of several drafting tables as his brother entered the lab. "He said he had to check on that little experiment he's running on the other side of the island."

Scott grinned. "I don't get why he won't let us in on the secret."

Virgil shrugged. "You know Brains." Scott handed him a bottle of water. "Thanks," he said, taking it and chugging half of it down in one go.

Coming around to stand just behind his younger brother, Scott looked over Virgil's shoulder at the new blueprint he was working on. "Same design, but updated. So you're not trying to completely recreate Two, huh?"

Virgil elbowed him. "Ha ha, very funny."

"What, I'm serious!" Scott laughed as he took a seat at the drafting table right next to him. "Every time I draw a line, I wonder if I'm just trying to reinvent the wheel. So I erase it and start all over again, and it still comes out the same."

Virgil's finger traced the outline of the cockpit panel he was in the middle of creating on the large, white paper in front of him. "Well, you know what they say. Why mess with perfection?"

With that, Virgil picked up his pencil and started filling in certain monitors and buttons, keypads and gauges that he wanted on what would end up being Thunderbird Two's new control panel. There were several minutes of silence. Suddenly he got the weird feeling he was being watched, and looked up to find Scott's eyes boring into him. "What?"

"We never...I mean, we haven't..." Scott sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I think we need to talk about what happened."

"What happened?" Virgil swallowed hard. He couldn't...he didn't want to talk about it. Not with Scott. How could he? How could he look his Scott in the eye and describe what it felt like to lose another Scott somewhere across space and time? "C'mon, Virg. I'm assuming I...or rather, he...fell off the gantry and died."

"That's right," Virgil responded, his voice sounded nothing less than strangled.

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

Scott calmly laid a hand on Virgil's right arm, effectively impeding his ability to continue with his schematics. "Tell me about the other me. Was he exactly the same as I am?"

Virgil sighed and laid his pencil down, half-turning on the stool to face Scott. "No. He wasn't."

"How was he different?"

Virgil shook his head and looked away.

"Come on, Virg, tell me."

"Why do you want to know?" Virgil asked, rising to his feet. "He's gone, it doesn't matter."

"Well, when you find out you have a counterpart in another dimension, and find out at the same time that he's dead, it makes you curious."

Virgil sighed again, his back now facing his brother. "He was...darker. Unhappy. Gaunt."

Scott frowned, also rising to his feet. "You're just giving adjectives, Virg."

Virgil whirled on him. "He wasn't you, Scott. I mean, he was, but...he wasn't. You know, he...I think he actually contemplated jumping from the gantry on purpose."

Scott's eyes widened. "I contemplated suicide?"

"Not you!" Virgil ground out vehemently. "Him!"

Scott nodded. "So...his death wasn't accidental."

"Yes, it was! He decided not to, he'd turned and...and then Ben came out, and I..."

"Ben?" Scott blinked. "Who's Ben?"

Virgil collapsed onto a nearby stool. "Our brother."

"What?"

Virgil finally looked up, directly into Scott's eyes. "He was our brother. You know, John's twin. Only over there, they weren't born conjoined. They were fraternal, and Ben lived."

"But you didn't."

Virgil shrugged and shook his head. "I never saw exactly how or why I died, but no, I didn't." Scott watched as Virgil's eyes seemed to turn inward, as though he were watching something inside his own mind. "He remembered me. Lying in his hospital bed, Father had just..." He swallowed hard. "Father had died, and Scott was lying there, and...he told Father to say hi to Mom...and to me."

Scott watched Virgil's face soften, watched the emotions play across the eyes he knew so well. He stepped forward, but didn't touch him.

"I know he heard me, too. One time he woke up in his hospital bed yelling, "Not dead, not dead!" and that's when I knew I wasn't really dead."

"You thought you were dead."

Virgil nodded. "Yes. It was the only thing that made sense at the time. I had no idea I was still alive over here on this side. All I knew was that I couldn't pick anything up, and I had to wish myself places in order to get there. I could walk on top of water, out in mid-air. Things around me weren't real, and yet...they were almost too real."

Scott reached out and squeezed his brother's forearm.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to be yelling and screaming at someone, but no matter what you do, you can't get their attention? To only be able to stand there while Brains does CPR on your father, only to watch him give up and cry because he can't revive him? To reach out and try to catch your brother when he falls, only to be able to hover and see his body hit the concrete...?" Virgil's voice broke and he looked up into Scott's eyes. "I don't ever want to feel that way again. I can't, Scott. I had to watch you die. I could do nothing. Nothing!"

Scott moved forward and wrapped his arms around his brother, felt Virgil's arms wrap around him. "But you changed things," he whispered. "You saved me."

Virgil's arms squeezed him tighter. "I can't watch you die again."

"You won't have to," Scott replied, pulling back until their eyes could lock together. "I promise you, Virg."

Virgil shook his head. "You can't make promises like that."

"Listen, I don't understand all this about there being another dimension with our family in it. But what I do know is that you saved my life. It has to have been for a reason." Virgil had looked away, but Scott grabbed his chin and forced his eyes back onto him. "Right?"

Virgil half-smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"Okay," Scott nodded, extricating himself from his brother's arms. "Now let's get back to work. Dad's expecting these first drafts by EOD."

Virgil nodded and the brothers took their seats behind their respective drafting tables. "You'll have to tell me about Ben," Scott said as he picked up his pencil. "I've always wondered what he would've been like."

"He's a Tracy," Virgil smiled, shrugging. Then his look morphed into a frown. "He's the one who called your name. You were distracted and lost your balance."

Scott looked up.

"That's why I hesitated before I came after you. I thought, Ben's my replacement, and he startled his Scott, and his Scott fell. What if I whirl around on the wall and startle you and cause you to fall?"

"Well, you didn't," Scott replied as he elbowed Virgil's ribs. "And now you've got me owing you." He was grateful when his brother's mood improved considerably.

"That's right, you do," Virgil replied, winking. "And look out, Scott. Because payback's a bitch."

Scott laughed and turned back to his cross-section of Thunderbird One's tail fins. He'd no doubt Virgil would make him pay but good. He was looking forward to every minute.

Because it meant he was alive. And though he would never let Virgil see it, the thought that his closest brother had had to watch him die made him almost physically ill. He stole a glance up at him, and found him to be deep into engineering-mode again. It hadn't been him who'd died in front of Virgil, but somehow he felt...responsible for it. For making Virgil go through that. And he was bound and determined to make up for the pain he'd seen in Virgil's eyes. If it took him the rest of his life, he thought, he'd make it up to him. Somehow.

Kyrano moved through the ceremony as though nothing more than an automaton. And truly, was he anything more than that? He watched his child, grown into a woman and more beautiful than all the gems in the world, walk down the aisle and take the sultan's turban on her head. Said his words as memorized over the last week. Noted that her eyes did not meet his once. And reconfirmed for himself that after this he would leave. Tin-Tin would be kept busy for hours with the coronation ball. Undoubtedly many men would seek to dance with her, and then would come the advisors and the business of running the state.

But by the time the ball had ended, Kyrano would be long gone. He would travel by horse as a peasant. He would not be stopped, nor paid any attention at all in the peasant's clothes he had obtained. It was a long way to the port, where he would take a skiff to the island of Penang. And there, he would find himself. And as it ended, as the court burst into applause, as Tin-Tin raised the royal scepter into the air, Kyrano inwardly wept. Good-bye, my daughter, he thought as he slipped through a door behind the dais. Good-bye.

News of the coronation was reported on NTBS the next day. Somewhere in the back of Jeff's mind, it niggled away that it hadn't been Ned Cook doing the reporting. But his heart was full of sorrow as pictures of the event were shown. He saw Kyrano standing there, watched the photos taken as Tin-Tin became a queen. It was official. They would never be coming back now. He looked up when a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Father, it's time for us to take you Stateside."

Jeff nodded. "My luggage."

"In the jet," Scott advised, casting a sidelong glance at Virgil. "You okay?"

Jeff just nodded and turned, heading toward the elevator in the hall. Virgil's look of concern mirrored his older brother's as both moved to the balcony. "I don't know, Scott. You think he really is okay?"

"He'll get over it, I guess. He just misses him."

"I keep wondering if Alan's going to get over Tin-Tin as easily."

Scott shook his head. "I don't know. I used to just think it was Alan being flirtatious, but now I'm not so sure."

"You think he really loves her?"

Scott shrugged as they made their way down the long, curved staircase that led to the pool. They skirted its edge and made their way along the beach toward the tarmac. "I suppose even if he does, it can't go anywhere now. Father said a Malay sultana couldn't marry a native from another country."

They walked along in silence until the tarmac came into view. The jet's engines were already running, and it had been taxied out of the hangar. "You ever feel like your world's spinning out of control-?"

"And you have no way to stop it?" Scott finished for him. Virgil nodded and Scott sighed. "Every goddamn day, Virg. Every goddamn day."

And so the day passed into weeks, which passed into months. Before any of them knew it, six months had passed since Tin-Tin had been crowned, and from all accounts she'd been doing well in her new role. Construction had begun both on a new set of office buildings for Tracy Corporation in Rocky Ford and the memorial to the victims of the Tracy Tower collapse in Manhattan. Everyone they'd needed had been hired and trained, for the most part. Things were picking back up for the companies and Jeff couldn't have been more pleased with the hard work put in by his family and their friends and agents the world 'round.

Even the Thunderbirds were on their way to making a comeback. The new Thunderbird 1's entire body was finished. Brains and Virgil were now working on everything that went inside it. In the meantime, Scott was keeping busy getting all the parts they needed for Thunderbird 2, as Gordon had been doing for the new Thunderbird 4. John, Alan and Jeff had been away more than they'd been home, but their tireless efforts were finally beginning to pay off.

They say time heals all wounds. But the truth is that time only masks them. For those unwilling or unable to go through the pain of repairing the wound, it will continue to lie open. Bandaged, perhaps, maybe even well enough that the world doesn't realize it's still there. But it festers and goes even deeper, and before you know it, it has spread so vastly that the damage can be irreparable.

Such was very nearly the case with several members of the Tracy family. Aunt Mamie had died, and Ruth had decided to stay in Kansas to be near what was left of Mamie's family. Brains looked more and more withered each time Jeff saw him, and Jeff himself was finding it harder and harder to move past the events of the last year. Virgil's moods had grown darker as he fought his own demons, and Scott was at the end of his rope about it.

It was then that the message came from Malaysia. Nothing but two short sentences, but they were words that tore the bandages from the wounds Jeff had been desperately trying to hide. MY FATHER HAS DISAPPEARED. PLEASE HELP ME. Further inquiries had given them more facts about the situation. Apparently, Kyrano hadn't been seen or heard from since the night of Tin-Tin's coronation. The royal army had searched the entire state of Sarawak and most of Malaysia, but had found no sign of the man that was to have been their king. And now, in desperation, Tin-Tin was turning to the one man she thought could put things right. After all, Jeff Tracy had always been able to fix everything. Always.

It was for these reasons that Jeff now found himself entering Alan's bedroom. It was spotless. He hadn't been back on the island for more than six hours. Alan and John had just returned from another round of business matters, and Jeff knew he'd find his youngest son here. What he didn't expect was to find Alan asleep on the floor, propped up against the patio windows and holding a picture. A picture that, when he took it from Alan's hands, he discovered was of his son and Tin-Tin. Jeff knew Virgil had taken the picture atop the island's mountain.

Happier times, he thought as he noted the wide smiles on their faces, the brilliant sparkle in their eyes. Jeff knelt down on one knee and gently shook his sleeping son. "Alan," he said softly. "Alan, wake up."

Alan's eyes blinked open and he yawned. "Dad? What are you doing in here?"

"I used the override, Alan. I'm sorry, but someone needs your help."

"Who?"

Jeff took the photo and turned it around until it was facing Alan. He just looked up at his father for a moment until understanding dawned. Then he sprang to his feet and shook his head, pacing back and forth in front of the patio doors. "Oh, no. No way, Dad."

"Son, she needs you. Now more than ever."

"Uh-uh. She gave me up. Remember?"

"No, Alan. She didn't give you up."

"The hell she didn't," he spat, whirling on his father. "I told her I wanted to marry her, Dad. Marry her! That I was going to get a ring and ask her...and she just threw it in my face. That damn country was more important to her then, let it help her now!"

Jeff was momentarily surprised by the vehemence in Alan's voice. But he supposed he shouldn't be. Not really. His mouth hung open slightly as Alan turned his back on him, looking out over the Pacific but seeing nothing through the haze of anger. Of pain. Marry her? Alan wanted to marry her? All this time and Jeff had had no idea. He'd thought Alan would get over Tin-Tin. That in time he'd move on and find someone else, someone who didn't have a throne as part of her dowry.

But no. Alan wasn't getting over it. Because Alan had finally grown up, Jeff realized. He observed the taut neck and shoulders, the slight shaking that told him all Alan wanted to do right now was punch somebody's lights out. Jeff wondered if he was prepared to be the one who took the brunt of Alan's feelings, but he understood that if he didn't act now, two things were certainly going to happen: Alan was going to explode and then Alan was going to implode.

He remembered the emotions well. Boiling just beneath the surface after someone you loved was taken from you by unseen forces. Tin-Tin wasn't dead, but as Sultana of Sarawak, to Alan she might as well be. He knew about wanting to hit something, wanting to strangle someone. He knew about shaking your fist at the heavens and shouting WHY? at the top of your lungs. He'd done it when Lucy had died. He'd done it after the New York building had been toppled. And he was seeing his youngest go through the same motions.

"Son," he began haltingly. What should he say? What could he say? Start with the truth.

Alan didn't respond. He just stayed in position looking out of the window as the sun began to set.

"Alan, Kyrano's missing."

Alan's head moved a fraction of an inch.

"We got a message. He disappeared six months ago. I...I have to go look for him."

"What, now?" Alan asked, exasperated, as he turned to face his father. "But why? Kyrano left you and this family as surely as Tin-Tin did! You don't owe them anything!"

"You're wrong, Alan. It's taken me all this time to realize it, but I do owe the Kyranos something. Hell, we all do."

Alan just snorted and made as if to turn around again, but Jeff stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He braced himself for a fist to his jaw, but none was forthcoming. Still, Alan wouldn't look at him, his eyes glued to the floor.

"Kyrano's protected us all these years, Alan."

He grunted. "Protected his daughter, you mean."

"Yes. But us, too. All of us. And Tin-Tin was invaluable to International Rescue. Not to mention the fact that she kept the Hood from getting his hands on Thunderbirds One and Two."

Alan didn't even blink.

"I know you're angry with Tin-Tin. I know you think she chose Malaysia over you, and in a way, you're right. But imagine being faced with a choice like that, Alan. You, of all people, understand the choices we have to make in life. You and your brothers gave up your own independent lives to become International Rescue." Alan looked up at him. "Didn't you?"

"Yeah. But that's not the same. We weren't in love at the time."

Jeff shook his head. "That's not true. Both Scott and Virgil and, I suspect, John as well, had someone out there in the world. Someone they each gave up for life here on Tracy Island. A secret life they couldn't share with anyone."

"I didn't know that," Alan whispered.

"I know. And I know things have been damn hard over this last year. And I know that you love Tin-Tin a great deal. Anybody can see that."

"Anybody except her," he sulked, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"I don't think Tin-Tin's blind, Alan. I think she's torn. She has an obligation to fulfill, one she was born into." Jeff sat down next to him on the bed as a myriad of things suddenly became clear to him. "Kind of like the one you were born into." Alan's eyes locked with his. "As members of the Tracy family, I guess all five of you boys felt obligated to become International Rescue. My selfishness has kept you from enjoying the lives you were meant to live."

"Dad, what's to say this isn't the life I was meant to live? Here with you, with International Rescue?"

"But what's to say it is?"

Alan arched an eyebrow. "What are you saying, Father?"

"You know, I did the same thing." Jeff gave him a knowing look. "If I had done what I felt obligated to do, I would've been a wheat farmer right now. And so would all of you."

"But you didn't. You went into the Air Force."

He nodded. "And to the Moon. And built Tracy Corp and then International Rescue."

"You followed your heart."

Jeff looked up at the ceiling and collected his thoughts, which very nearly refused to be collected. He recognized a need in his son. A very deep need, one that he had no right ignoring. Not with any of his boys. Whatever decision Alan made, he vowed it wouldn't come between them the way his had come between himself and his own father, Grant.

"Alan, Tin-Tin needs you."

"No. She needs you to find her father."

Jeff looked him in the eye. "Her father needs me. She needs you."

"Did she ask for me?"

"No. Not in so many words. But look." Jeff took the paper he'd printed her message on out of his pocket and handed it to him. "Read between the lines."

Alan read it and shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed. "I love her, Dad. I love her more than anything in the whole world. I miss her so much."

Jeff squeezed his shoulder. "Then I think it's high time you proved that."

"How?"

Sighing, it took a moment for Jeff to reply. "Kyrano always says your destiny is molded by your heart."

"That's a bit flowery," Alan chuckled.

"Yes, it is. But he also says that if you don't follow your heart, you'll never know your true destiny." Alan looked at him quizzically. "I think it's high time you stopped feeling obligated and started following your heart. Don't you?"

Jeff stood. It was time for Alan to make his own decision. As he moved to walk out of the bedroom, he was startled to feel a hand on his arm. He was even more surprised to find himself enveloped in a strong hug. And the whispered, "Thank you, Dad," in his ear made a lump form in his throat. He returned the hug and patted his son on the back.

"One hour," Jeff said gruffly as he pulled away. "Be in Two's hangar."

"F.A.B.," Alan said softly, staring at the message again.

Jeff smiled before leaving the suite. As he headed down the hall to his own suite, he knew once and for all that his baby boy was all grown up. And what he'd just done might very well mean Alan wouldn't be sticking around. But, Jeff finally realized as his door hissed open, it was Alan's choice to make. His heart was heavy at the thought of what might happen, but he knew he was doing the right thing for Alan. And for Tin-Tin.

Now all he had to do was find Kyrano.

All Tracys had returned to the island at Jeff's request. He wanted none of them out there alone in his absence.

"Father, you can't leave now. We have our first board meeting next week!"

"John," Jeff said, standing face-to-face with his son on the hard concrete floor of Two's hangar, "I have complete faith that you can handle that."

John's face morphed from a look of concern to one of disbelief. "Alone?"

"Yes," Jeff confirmed. "Alone." He smirked as John's brow knitted. "It's what you've wanted for a long time, isn't it? To man the helm as John Tracy instead of as Jeff Tracy's sidekick?"

"Sidek-?" John rolled his eyes and burst out laughing. "You're serious!"

"I am," Jeff smiled, reaching his hand out. "If this is what you want, then do it."

"It is what I want, Dad." John smiled and shook his head, unable to believe his ears. "It is."

Jeff nodded as they shook hands, then he pulled John into a hug. "I'll keep in contact as best I can. But I'm not returning without Kyrano."

"You don't know how long you'll be gone?" Scott asked as he and Virgil stepped forward.

"No, son. I have no idea where Kyrano is. But whatever I do, I won't rest until I find him." Jeff cleared his throat as his sons all stared at him. "Scott, you're in charge of Base. Virgil, you're in charge of anything and everything having to do with the new 'birds as well as the more technical projects the Corp is handling." He turned to Gordon. "And what is it you want to do, Gordon?"

"Excuse me?"

"I said, what is it you want to do?"

"I...uh, well, that is, I...uh..." Gordon's face turned beet red. "I don't know."

"Well, when you figure it out," Jeff chuckled, "let me know. Until then, you're in charge of the new Thunderbird Four, as well as equipment testing. I also want you to help John out." Gordon groaned. "Just for now," Jeff quickly added. "When I get back, things will be different." He looked at each of them in turn. Strong, handsome, accomplished men, all of them. "I promise you they'll be different."

With that, he turned and climbed into Tracy One, where Alan was already waiting in the passenger seat. They both waved to those they were leaving behind as Jeff revved up the jet. Within minutes, they'd taxied and taken off. Scott couldn't help but smile as the jet made a single rollover, then disappeared into the night sky.

"I wonder what he meant about things being different," Virgil mused as the four boys headed down along the beach.

"Dunno," Gordon shrugged. "But I can tell you that's the first time that man has ever asked me what I wanted to do."

"That was a shocker," John agreed. "What do you want to do?"

Gordon looked down at the sand as they trudged along. "Dive," he said simply.

"That's our aquanaut," Scott grinned, grabbing Gordon's head and rubbing his fist along the top of it.

"Hey, stop that!" Gordon cried, wriggling out of it. He got away and took off for the front of the villa as Scott and John laughed.

But Scott turned to find that Virgil wasn't laughing. John noticed too, and cleared his throat. "I guess I'd better hit the books," he said, giving Scott a meaningful look. "If I'm going to handle that board meeting."

Scott nodded, grateful for his middle brother's observant nature as John loped back toward the house. He then turned his attention back to Virgil, who had seated himself on the beach and was staring off into nothingness. "Virg?"

"Hm?"

"What's eating you?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. You've been moodier than a woman in menopause."

"Shut up."

Scott reached down to grab his brother's arm, but Virgil swatted his hand away. "What gives?"

"It's none of your business."

"The hell it isn't, Virg. It's eating you alive." When Virgil didn't respond, Scott decided he had to continue. "You never did tell me about Ben, you know."

"Ben?" Virgil repeated. "How do I even know there was a Ben?"

"What do you mean? You lived it, of course there is."

"Just seems like a dream now."

"But it wasn't a dream. It was real. And it fucked you up royally."

Virgil looked up at him, daggers in his eyes as he rose to his feet. "Fucked me up?"

"Yes. You haven't been the same since you came back, Virg. Everyone knows it."

"Oh, they do, do they?" Virgil seethed. He turned away from his brother, effectively stopping the conversation as far as he was concerned. The tide had begun to come in and he watched as the water lapped closer and closer to his sandal-clad feet.

"Of course they do. I know I do."

"Don't you ever let anything go?" Virgil asked, his voice low.

"Not when it's something like this," Scott shook his head and moved into his brother's line of sight. "I mean, ever since you returned, you've been withdrawn and your moods have gotten worse and worse—"

"Shut up!" Virgil yelled, grabbing Scott's collar in his hand. "Why don't you try thinking your dead? Why don't you watch your father rescue all your brothers and then die right before your eyes?" He shook Scott, who didn't fight back. Virgil let go and started walking toward the roundhouse.

"Oh, no, you don't," Scott muttered, moving to jog after him. "Virgil, please."

"Please what?" he asked, coming to a stop but not turning around.

"Talk to me."

Virgil just shook his head, dropping to sit on an outcropping of rock not too far from the villa.

Scott shoved him over and sat down next to him, the two men occupying a space barely large enough for Tin-Tin's small frame. Seconds passed into minutes as the men looked out upon the wet sand and rolling waves.

"I can't imagine what you saw."

"No. You can't."

"Maybe I could if you told me."

"Why do you want to know so badly?"

"Because it fascinates me that there's some other place where we exist. That's why."

"Where you did exist," Virgil corrected morosely.

Scott bumped into his brother. "Come on..."

"No."

"Virgil, dammit-"

Springing to his feet, Virgil began to pace. It was at least a minute before he spoke. Exploded, was more like it. "Why don't you try finding out there's some place where you never fucking lived?" He looked at Scott as though waiting for an answer before continuing. "Why don't you fucking stand there in thin air and try to save someone you love so much and watch them smash into a concrete floor?"

Scott looked down, his heart feeling as though it had stopped beating. What that must have done to him...

"And why don't you try sleeping every single fucking night with nightmares about the ones you left behind? The ones you couldn't save? The ones who've lost everything...and the only thing that separates them from us is a dimensional wall!"

With that, Virgil fell back onto the rock, the agony of what he must've been experiencing something Scott couldn't even fathom. Scott steadied him as he teetered on the edge of the small space. "Virgil, I...I'm sorry."

"Night after night I see Dad dead on the floor," Virgil grunted, his voice belying the tears Scott knew were flowing, but could not see in the dark. "Night after night I see you fall. Over and over again, replaying like a fucking movie that I can't switch off."

No, Scott knew he couldn't imagine any of it. What would he do if he had to stand helplessly by while Virgil fell to his death? He'd be torturing himself. And clearly, Virgil was. "Night after night I see Ben. This brother who's so much like us, but so different. Someone we never got to know."

Suddenly it was as though his brother had deflated. Shoulders hunched, he wrapped his arms around himself and squeezed his eyes closed. "They're out there, Scott," he whispered, opening his eyes and looking into the sky. "Millions of stars up there, and we're seeing the same ones they are. They're close enough for us to touch, but far enough away that we never even knew they were there."

He finally looked over at him.

"I saw so many things, learned so many things," Virgil continued, wiping his face on his sleeve. "But I can't stop reliving the horror of seeing you die. I can't help thinking I should've been able to stop it. That I could've done something."

Silence descended upon them. At last, Virgil sighed and spoke. "He...he heard me."

"What?"

"That Scott. He heard me."

"You...said..." Scott hesitated, trying to remember his brother's words. "You said he heard you and was yelling 'not dead.'"

"No. Not then. Out on the gantry. Right before he fell."

"He heard you?"

"He was drunk. He heard me, and I think he saw me. He asked who I was. I told him."

"You told him you were his brother who'd died?"

Virgil nodded. "It's my fault he fell. Not Ben's."

"How?"

"He thought his mind was playing tricks on him. He thought I was...I don't know, just a figment of his imagination, I guess. He was moving to get away from me when Ben opened the wall."

Realization dawned on Scott at last. "That's not your fault. It was Ben who startled him."

"But he was off-balance because of me. I distracted him."

Scott put a hand on Virgil's leg. "It wasn't your fault."

"I killed him," Virgil said, looking Scott square in the eye. "I killed you."

"No, Virgil. You didn't kill me. You saved me. Remember? Saved me here in the hangar."

"But he's still dead."

Scott put his hands on Virgil's shoulders and shook him slightly. "But I'm not. Stop acting like I am."

Virgil looked up at him and let out a long, slow sigh. "I just can't stop thinking about them. I can't...I can't forget them."

"You don't have to, Virg. You can use what you saw over there to help us over here. You already have." Scott rose to his feet and reached a hand down to his brother.

He reached out and took the offered hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. "I just can't stop seeing you like he was, and now Dad's going off on this mission to find Kyrano...Scott, what if it's going to happen over here anyway? What if, no matter how hard I try, I can't stop it from repeating?"

"But what if you can?" Scott wrapped his arm around Virgil's shoulders. "I think you need to stop second guessing yourself." Virgil looked at him for a few seconds, then nodded slowly. "Come on. Let's go."

"Thanks," he said as they started toward the house once more.

"You think things'll be okay now?" Gordon asked as he and John rested their elbows on the balcony railing of John's room.

John looked back down at where Scott and Virgil were making their way home. "I think so. Looks like oil and vinegar have turned back into salad dressing again."

Gordon covered his mouth and ran back into John's suite, where he finally allowed himself to burst out laughing. "You're sick, you know that? Sick!"

John laughed as he sauntered in. "Ah, well, it runs in the family." His next sentence was cut off by the sound of the vidphone ringing. "Now, who the heck is that? Dad already?"

Gordon shrugged as John moved to answer it. The screen came to life, but there was no smiling face upon it. "Penny?" Gordon said, his voice rising in pitch. "What is it?"

Lady Penelope's tear-stained face looked back at them. "It's Sir Jeremy and Jeremiah," she said, sniffling into her handkerchief. "They've been killed. Oh, boys, they've been killed!"

"My God! By who?" John asked.

Penny just shook her head and picked something up that had apparently been lying next to her. She raised it high enough for them to see. John and Gordon both froze, their faces draining of all color.

"No," Gordon breathed. "Oh, God, no."

For what Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward held in her hands, was a discarded mask.

"The Hood," John said, looking at his brother. "Jesus Christ, he's back."