So here we are, the last chapter. I can't thank you enough for all of the gorgeous comments and support with this, they have really meant a lot to me. I really hope you like this last chapter.

Of course, where would any story be without a fab beta? Thank you once again, Bee.

"You look like one of your canvases."

Scott made his way outside, blinking in the bright sunlight but unable to stop himself from running his eyes over his brother in concern. Virgil was sprawled across a sun lounger, his arm flung somewhat pathetically over his head in order to try and stop the sun from getting into his eyes. But from where his shirt had risen up slightly, Scott could see the scattering of bruises. He knew they extended up over Virgil's torso and gave his brother a colourful appearance that had almost given their grandmother a heart attack when they had got back to the island.

After a few phone calls and lots of string-pulling, the two Tracys were allowed to leave. With Scott's initial contact ensuring they could give their statements once they were back on the island and then Jeff asserting a little authority as well, the cops had been more than happy to let them go. They almost seemed relieved to have them gone and Scott knew he hadn't been helping matters by getting in the way. He had been trying to help, not used to being classed as a victim, but when a paramedic had forced a blanket over his shoulders for the fifth time, only Virgil had been able to get him to calm down.

Despite wanting to get straight back home, their father had strictly forbidden them to fly until they had had at least had a night's sleep. Scott had grumbled and threatened to disobey the man, but then seemed to realise just how heavily Virgil was beginning to lean on him and knew that going back to the apartment for a few hours would do them far more good than heading home. Virgil knew that Scott was just using him as an excuse. The man had been beaten up and he could tell that Scott was hurting even if he wasn't admitting it. The way he was holding himself betrayed his pain to his brother and Virgil had insisted they waited before flying. By the time morning came around, however, Mrs H had been at their door claiming that she was coming as well.

Scott had taken one look at Virgil's face and called their father. After an hour or so of whispered conversations while Scott tried to figure out what on earth was going on, they were finally ready to go - with one more passenger than they had come out with. Both of the boys had still been a little dubious about what their father was planning by bringing Mrs H out to the island, but Jeff had put forward a compelling argument they had no response for. Not only did she already know the secret that tended to make them avoid visitors, but she had also saved their lives. Neither of them could deny it and so both had just given each other confused glances as the plane took off.

They had arrived just as the sun was beginning to set. Scott had tried to get answers, but had instead found himself hauled down to the infirmary. If he was honest, Scott hadn't noticed where Gordon had been dragging him until he was sitting on a bed with Brains standing over him, a clipboard in his hand. A brief struggle later – which resulted in Gordon sitting on his brother's legs – and Brains had to admit there was nothing wrong with him other than a few scrapes. Despite Virgil's bruising being somewhat more spectacular than his brother's, he was also cleared. He might have been stiff and sore, but there was nothing serious.

Yet again, Scott had gone for answers. Only this time, he had been met by his grandmother. It was only the fact that he had already been to the infirmary that stopped her from drilling him about everything that hurt. Instead, she simply fixed him with a look and sent him to bed. Virgil had snorted with amusement until her gaze had been turned on him and the same command given. Both men had looked at each other and hurried up the stairs. They might not have had an issue about taking on a room full of terrorists, but when it came to resisting their grandmother's orders, they knew better than to refuse.

Not that Scott would ever admit it, but he did feel a lot better when he woke late the next morning. It came as no surprise that Virgil was still asleep, yet Scott had stood in his brother's doorway for a long moment just to reassure himself that everything was okay with the younger man. When he had finally made it downstairs, it was to find Mrs H was in the office with his father and no amount of pleading (or whining) on Scott's behalf could get them to let him in and explain what was going on. Eventually, Scott had just passed the time talking to John.

Now, however, Virgil was finally up and the file clutched in Scott's hand would give them all the answers they had been after ever since Mrs H had paid to be Scott's date for the evening.

"What's that?"

Scott shrugged, sitting on the edge of Virgil's sun lounger and visually checking his brother over. Virgil had lowered his arm, but that didn't stop him from glaring at his brother.

"I'm fine." He had his teeth gritted as he spoke and Scott had a feeling that he was going to end up in the pool if he didn't stop. He offered a sheepish smile and dumped the file on the chair next to them.

"Apparently everything we want to know."

"Then what am I going to talk to John about?"

Scott chuckled, prodding his brother in his leg. Virgil grinned back but the smile slipped as he focused on the folder. "Have you looked yet?"

"I didn't think you would ever forgive me if I did," Scott murmured, letting his hand stretch out and ghost over the top of the file. He looked up and caught Virgil's eye, who nodded. Why he was so nervous about this, Scott had no idea. But he thought he had known everything there was to know about International Rescue. To have someone he already had a link with suddenly turn up knowing more than they should had shaken him up.

"Where is she?"

"Trying to get a recipe off Grandma." Scott glanced up and saw the look on Virgil's face. His brother's struggle to contain himself caused Scott to crack and both of them burst out laughing. Mrs H could take down terrorists with a single chair throw, but hadn't seemed to have worked out how to get their grandmother to give up some of her famous recipes.

"Go on then." Virgil nodded his head towards the file and Scott knew that now was the time to find out precisely who Mrs H was. He flicked it open, angling it around so both of them could see it. The first few pages they had seen before, some of the early documentationfor International Rescue. Scott turned the pages, not knowing what it was he was looking for but certain he would know it when he saw it.

"There."

Virgil leant forward, pointing to something on one of the pages. Scott pulled it closer.

"That's the Air Force symbol. What is it doing in here?" He glanced at Virgil, who looked just as confused as he did, before starting to read.

"The correct authority for American airspace needs to be granted before unidentified craft can pass over without an automatic hostile reaction… two signatures needed to vouch for the security of such aircraft… The witnesses have to have served under a military constitution and be fully liable for the craft they are supporting…"

"What does that mean?"

Scott shook his head, not being sure, and continued to scan the rest. After a moment, he sat back and let a whistle slide through his teeth.

"I think it means Dad had to grovel. And Mrs H did more than just be married to a commander."

"What?"

Scott shook his head, frowning as he had one last read-through. Eventually, he set it to one side.

"We couldn't fly over the US without some sort of guarantee that we weren't a threat. Dad needed someone to vouch for us so we didn't get shot down every single time we headed in that direction."

"And that's how Mrs H knows who we were? She was the one?"

"Look here," Scott spun the document so Virgil could see where he was pointing. "Those two signatures."

"Is that an R? And an H? RH! Regina Harris. But who is that one?" Virgil's satisfaction at being able to decipher the scrawl vanished when he turned his attention to the second signature and he tried to make it out.

"DH," Scott said quietly. "Donald Harris. Otherwise known as Commander Harris."

"As in..?"

"As in her husband, yes. As in my old captain. Dad must have known that I trusted them with my life. I never met her when I was there, but there was talk that he had a wife serving elsewhere. I don't get why…"

"...Dad didn't tell us about this?"

Scott nodded, not surprised that Virgil knew what he had been thinking. The two sat in silence for a moment, their thoughts racing as they tried to figure out what was happening.

"Maybe he just didn't want us to worry," Virgil finally mused. As Scott glanced at him quizzically, Virgil pressed on. "You saw how we were after I was shot down. We were all over the place. You barely wanted us to leave the island. If we knew that had once been a threat every time we took off, would we have been able to do it?"

Scott shrugged, not really knowing what to say. Virgil's explanation made sense, but that didn't mean he liked that they had been kept in the dark. Two people's signatures on a piece of paper were all that had stopped them being targeted every time they tried to help half of the world and they had never been told. Scott didn't think that was fair somehow. Even if the others hadn't been told, as Field Commander he should have been informed about the potential threat.

"Scott? He would have been doing what was best for us." Virgil had sat forward, his hand resting on his brother's arm. As Scott looked at him, he smiled and moved away again, but his message had been clear. He had once again known what Scott had been thinking and didn't want his brother to dwell on it. Luckily for Scott, both of their watches beeped before he could let himself get any more worked up.

"What's up, John?"

"Take it you haven't been watching the news?"

"Why would we need to when you are clearly just about to tell us what is happening?"

Virgil smirked at the deadpan note to Scott's voice, but didn't say anything to the contrary.

"Maybe I won't tell you now…"

"C'mon, Johnny, he didn't mean it. What's happening in the world that we need to know about it now?"

"Thrandon's been sent to trial. It's next week."

"That's a bit fast, isn't it? They haven't even asked us for our statements yet." There was disbelief lining Scott's voice as he expressed his confusion.

"Apparently trying to take on some of the world's richest wasn't a good move. I don't know who has been pulling strings, but someone is pushing it along."

"I reckon it is the twins," Virgil said, finally lying back down across the lounger and swinging his legs up. Scott shifted as his brother kicked him, but found that his gaze was drawn back to the house and he was shaking his head.

"I don't think so."

"Then who?"

"Dad," Scott said simply, acutely aware that Virgil was staring at him and had John been there, there would have been a matching expression on that brother's face as well.

"Dad doesn't normally get involved with something like this, Scott, you know that."

"He does if IR is on the line. Think about it: if it is pushed through, no big-name lawyer will have time to take on the case, no opponent from the other end of the world who wants some of those rich people taken down a peg or two will have time to get involved. And if they can't get involved with the case, Thrandon won't be able to keep talking about us being International Rescue. Or, at least, if he is talking, no one will be listening."

"How does he know that, anyway?"

Scott shrugged, glancing at his watch. If anyone knew, it would be John. Sure enough, his brother had an answer.

"Gordon and I are still working on it, but we think he was in Kansas when the early plans for the 'birds came through. I've managed to pull up enough evidence that shows he could have gained access to the factories; he was still working for the C.I.A back then and any new businesses were given the once-over by officials to make sure they were financially sound and legit and all that. We think he saw something, then when everything else went wrong for him, he tried to make his name once again."

Virgil whistled and Scott found that he was echoing the feeling. They had been so careful ever since they had begun operations to make sure that no one figured out who they were so that they couldn't be compromised. It had never crossed his mind that something from their past would be the one thing to nearly pull the whole thing apart.

"Has anyone believed him or even taken interest yet?"

"Nope. According to the rest of the world, Zeb Thrandon is a loose cannon and a liability."

"Zeb? His name is Zeb?"

As John confirmed it, Virgil burst out laughing.

"You were beaten up by a man named Zeb," he chuckled, ignoring the deathly glare that Scott was shooting him. John took that as his sign to swiftly sign off, although Scott had a feeling that was because he, too, was trying to hide his laughter.

"You were held at gunpoint by the same man."

"Yeah, but he actually attacked you while you were playing the rich boy act."

"Virgil!"

"Boys!"

Scott had barely left the seat before the sharp voice rang through the air and he swiftly sat back down again. Virgil bit his lip in order to control his laughter, but Scott couldn't help but note the way he too had sat up a little straighter as their grandmother came out to the pool. She wasn't alone though, and Scott saw the way Mrs H's eyes darted down to the file then back to his face. Her small smile indicated she knew that they had figured out how she was involved.

"What has you two squabbling?" Grandma's hands were on her hips and Scott knew they had no choice but to answer.

"Virgil…"

"I did nothing, Grandma! Just merely pointed out that…"

"You were laughing at me!"

"Was not!"

"Were too!"

"Captain Tracy!"

It had been years since Scott had last been called that, but the reaction was almost instant. He was on his feet before he knew what he was doing and could hear Virgil once again trying to stifle his laughter. He didn't get away with it though, as his grandmother turned her steely gaze onto him.

"That's quite enough from you, young man. Go and clear up that mess you have made in your studio."

"Grandma…"

"Now."

Virgil got to his feet with a wince as Scott let his posture begin to relax slightly. He caught Virgil's eye as the artist turned towards the house and knew as they met eyes that both had forgiven the other. There was no point in fighting with one another if it meant going up against their grandmother - they had never been able to win. Scott took a small step after him, but a throat-clearing made him stop again.

"You have not been dismissed, pilot."

Scott made to say something, but before he could do so, an outraged shout echoed out from the villa.

"How did you DO that?" Gordon came barrelling out of the house and skidded to a stop, staring at Mrs H in disbelief. As she just smiled sweetly at him, Gordon turned to face Scott, his expression incredulous.

"She just passed all the stimulators on Four first time! First time, Scott! It took me two to get past the rock fall when we first started up and I know for a fact you still can't do it."

Scott blushed, but Gordon was too far gone in his rant to truly pay attention.

"And she has done it first time!"

"She can also disarm someone with a chair," Scott said quietly, his eyes glinting as Gordon's jaw dropped.

"A chair?"

"Saved my life." Scott didn't know why he was telling Gordon this, but there weren't many occasions that they could render the redhead speechless, so the oldest brother was making the most of it. Gordon, however, suddenly stopped looking disbelieving and grinned.

"Told you I could get him to admit it."

Scott blinked as Gordon turned to Mrs H and held out his hand. The old lady sighed and handed him a couple of bills. It was Scott's turn to feel his jaw drop.

"You made a bet?" Scott didn't care that his voice came out slightly higher in pitch than he was used to, he was too busy staring at his brother in disbelief.

"You're too proud, Scotty, we didn't think you would ever say that you were saved by someone Grandma's age."

Scott gaped, looking from Gordon and back to Mrs H and realising they both had identical glints in their eyes. Even his grandmother was wearing a knowing smile and Scott realised he had been well and truly tricked. Knowing there was only one solution left to him, he grabbed the back of Gordon's shirt, wrestled the money out of Gordon's hand and pushed him backwards. Gordon managed to keep his balance, but Scott felt like he had been tricked enough for one day. Shoving his brother in the chest, he sent Gordon flying into the water with a splash and took off into the house, hearing the two ladies laughing behind him.

Next time there was any sort of charity event, he was going to make sure Gordon was the one to attend.