A/N: Inspired by this idea the other day. Probably about four to five chapters. I'll try not to let it take away from Rough Landings or 96 Hours Until Sold. I hope you enjoy another toast of Alan whump.

Summary: Gordon finds himself in a do-or-die situation when a kidnapper abducts him and his younger brother at a motel on the family vacation. Wee!Tracys. Alan whump.

Note: Gordon is 16, Alan is 11. All other ages line up accordingly.

"Come on, Alan, let's go!" Sixteen-year-old Gordon Tracy called for his little brother as he made his way out the door. Something wasn't right. He ducked his head back inside the motel room. He had to meet Scott and his father at the tourist attraction in under two hours, and he wanted to stop for breakfast first. The redhead sighed and shook his head. Holy cats, how long did it take Alan to get dressed? It wasn't like he was a girl!

Normally, the family would have gone together, but Virgil and John were still coming down from college and wouldn't be there until that time anyway. His father and Scott had decided to see another tourist attraction that morning, but Gordon had flatly said that this was his vacation, too, and he didn't want to go. His father had surprised him by allowing him and Alan to sleep in late as long as they met him at the tourist attraction later. "Alan? Come on!" He commanded, ducking his head into the room.

Gordon had gone downstairs, gotten a soft drink from the incredibly expensive selection at the hotel, and then waltzed back upstairs. He would have thought his eleven year old brother would have been ready in that time frame. He thought it would speed them up in getting out the door. After all, it wasn't like the eleven-year-old could get in trouble at the luxurious, ritzy hotel when left alone for two minutes, right?

He should have known better.

And, even though his brother was in a public, fancy hotel room in the middle of the city, he should have foreseen that his brother would have gotten into a lot of trouble, also.

"Let him go!" Gordon commanded with false bravado, seeing the man clearly holding the gun that was pointed directly at Alan's head. "Let him go, come on, man!"

The man who was holding Alan was about 6'5, black, and had beady brown eyes. His dark hair was knotted in dreads, and he wore black sneakers that looked like they cost more than Gordon's entire monthly gas budget – which was fairly substantial, after he had finished driving Alan everywhere. The smirk on the man's face made Gordon feel sick to his stomach. Just what was going on here?

"I don't think so." The man's voice was crisp, and Gordon froze, his hand still on the door. He could clearly see the mask of terror on his brother's face. In the five minutes that Gordon was gone, his brother had also earned himself a split lip.

Shit. Scott was going to kill him.

"Close the door," the man commanded. "Or I'll just save myself a lot of trouble and shoot you right now. I only need one of you alive," he added.

"No!" Alan screamed, and Gordon could clearly see the look of terror on his brother's face.

"Look, don't hurt him!" Gordon said. "Just, I'm going to shut the door right now, okay?" Seeing no other alternative, Gordon did what the man commanded.

Alan was released onto the floor with a thump. Gordon moved to catch his younger brother, but was too late. "Are you okay?" he whispered softly.

Alan shook his head. "He slapped me," he responded, glaring at the gun-wielding man. Gordon winced, both at Alan's treatment and his response. The last thing they needed right now was for one of them to play a hero. If only he could reach his cell phone in his pocket, he could dial 911, but he didn't think that was going to be happening anytime soon.

"Which of the Tracy brats are you?" the man asked, looking at Gordon. Gordon attempted to swallow the lump in his throat that. Should he tell the man? Should he not? It didn't really matter in the long term of things; what mattered was getting out of here. "I was only planning on kidnapping the youngest. That's what usually evokes the most response out of someone, after all. But you threw a wrench into my plans. I have options, though," he said, as if almost to himself. "I could kill you and leave you here, where Jeff Tracy would find the body. I could take you with and kill you at a later time of my choosing. Or…"

"Or you could take me and let Alan go," Gordon said. He doubted it would happen, and he didn't want to go with the psychopath, but the less chance of his brother being taken away, the better. He didn't know who the man was, but he'd already hurt his younger brother, and Gordon Tracy knew that was not a good thing.

"Why would I do that?" the man responded, a brief smile on his face. "That would spoil all the fun. No, no. I've been planning on kidnapping Alan for a long time. I guess you're coming along, too. After all, you can always care for Alan, too, right?" he asked. "You might have some use." He pointed his gun directly at Gordon, causing the teenager's heart to nearly stop.

"Get up," he ordered. Gordon got up to his feet, shakily pushing himself up off the carpet. He knew what happened to kidnapping victims. It wasn't good. "Now get your brother. You're going to carry him out the door. If anyone asks, I'm your caretaker, and you don't say a damn word other than that or I'll beat up your baby brother. Got it?"

Gordon nodded, reaching towards Alan. Normally protesting at being carried – after all, the kid was 11 – Alan put up no resistance this time. Instead, he wrapped his arms firmly around Gordon's neck, letting Gordon know there would be no way he would be letting his brother go anytime soon.

"Let's go," the man responded, closing the door to the family hotel room.

"Hey, Scott!" John said enthusiastically, waving towards his older brother. John was graduating from high school that year. Virgil and Scott had already graduated.

"John!" Virgil said, letting himself breathe a sigh of relief, "A sane person!"

"I wouldn't go that far," Scott teased, greeting his brother with a welcoming hug. "How have you been, little brother?" he asked as he looked at John. He frowned. "Where is everyone else? Hiding?"

John quickly shook his head. "No. Dad's gone to get something to drink. Gordon and Alan are on their way. They should be here in…" John checked his watch, "They should be here already, actually."

"Wait, did I hear that right?" Scott asked. "Did Dad – our father, Jefferson Tracy – let the Terrible Two go off somewhere by themselves?"

"Scott!" Virgil responded, almost wailing in an obnoxious, high-pitched tone, "Gordon is sixteen!"

"And Alan is eleven," Scott responded. "Trust me, those two get into loads of trouble. Which brings me back to my original question… Where are they?"

"We went to a landmark earlier. It's your typical case of Teenage Laziness – Gordon didn't want to see it, he wanted to sleep in; Dad thought Alan was young enough he wouldn't understand it, so he let them drive by themselves. We're not that far from home, remember? The new move to the new, luxurious New York City house?" John teased. "Anyway, it was no stretch to bring Gordon's car along, too, so we did."

"I remember," Scott responded with a roll of his eyes. "When is Dad going to get the new island, anyway?"

"Probably when he gets his next pay raise," John said with a shrug. "You're right, though, they're taking too long. I'm going to call the Terrible Two before they get into any more trouble."

"Sometimes," Virgil muttered under his breath, "I'm really glad I went far, far away to college."

"Say that a little louder, bro," Scott said as John flipped open his cell phone. "I don't think the state of Tennessee heard you yet."

Gordon had been forced into the backseat of some car. Normally, he could have told someone the make and model, but all of his attention had been focused on Alan. The man's teeth were clenched as he drove, making the situation that much worse. Gordon frowned as his phone vibrated. Keeping his eyes carefully on the man, he slid his hand down into his pocket and hung up the call. He wanted desperately to talk to someone and let them know what was going on, but that would have to come later, before his phone was discovered. He couldn't take that risk.

Right now there were more pressing matters – like getting himself and Alan out of this situation alive.

And figuring out what the hell was going on here.

"Dude, what the heck?" John responded. "I think Gordon just hung up on me!"

"Oh, come on," Scott said with a roll of his eyes. "His voice mailbox is probably just overfull. He never checks it. You know that, right? Never bother with leaving him a voice mail message."

"No. It rang for one ring and then hung up. Gordon's phone never does that. It always rings at least twice before asking you to leave a message. Plus," John added, flashing the phone triumphantly at Scott, "Look here. It says 'call rejected.'"

"Hardly reason for worry," Virgil brought up. "Look, the kid has Sprout with him, right? He probably just wants to make sure he doesn't get in trouble while driving with him or something."

"Yeah," Scott added. The theory sounded good, and he hoped it was true. "Let's just stick with what we know, alright? Gordon will be fine. He's just late, and we'll go and kick his ass later. We'll worry about the terrible twos only if we need to. Sound good?"

"Yeah," John said. "Let's find Dad and see if we can get in touch with Gordo. No reason to worry about him just yet."

Little did they know that there was, in fact, reason to worry about him "just yet."

Challenge: How soon until they know that Gordon is missing?