Disclaimer: I do not own Thunderbirds. The following story has been written purely for entertainment purposes - no profit is being made by the author.
Author's Note: I recently decluttered my mind and this fell out. Though, quite how Alan and Gordon ended up in this situation is anyone's guess. Consider it a free plot bunny, should anyone wish to adopt it.
Still Together
There is no key. A lock, implacable and impenetrable, but no damn key, and no way to break through the steel door. Not in time, anyway.
Alan's hands are raw from trying, and his heart is raw from lying to Gordon, telling him how close he is to getting them out. Gordon, so still and pale on the floor; the tourniquet - made from Alan's sash, the blanket - Alan's sweater.
Alan feels the cold but he doesn't care - for Gordon's comfort, he would give up more than heat. What terrifies him is that it won't be enough. Gordon's not bleeding now, not anymore, but he's lost so much blood already. He needs help soon, else it's not going to matter if they get out or not.
Alan rams the door one last time. He lets out a cry of frustration, then drops back down at his brother's side, exhausted. He gathers a breath, strokes Gordon's clammy forehead.
"You still with me, Gords?"
"Always."
Gordon's mumble is barely audible. But Alan hears him, and his eyes fill with tears at his own inadequacy, at the unfairness of this, of his brother helpless and dying in this stark metal tomb, while he can do nothing but watch.
"I'll get us out, Gords, I promise. It's gonna be fine. We're gonna be fine."
Gordon looks at him, and somehow, somehow, he's smiling. Alan can never give up, not while there's light in his brother's eyes. He moves to stand, but Gordon's hand closes around his wrist. The grip is frighteningly weak, but it holds Alan fast.
"Gords?"
"It's okay, Al. We're good...as long as we're together...right?"
Alan doesn't even try to fight the tears. He takes his brother's hands, clutches them tight to his chest. He's light-headed from lack of oxygen, or fear...or both.
"I can't let you go, Gords. I can't."
"Then don't, Al. Stay here...with me."
When Alan settles down beside him, Gordon's heartbeat strengthens, his colour deepens. Alan feels it, lying beside him, listening to him breathe, willing him to keep on fighting, to keep on being.
Alan dare not move away, not anymore, in case any change is the crucial one. But that's when his own battle begins, and he fights hard against the weariness, focusing on his brother's face as darkness closes in. That's why he misses the first clanks and bangs from the door. Why the first he knows of their rescue is Virgil shaking his shoulder, calling his name.
And Gordon...still breathing. Still with him.
"We made it, Gords. We made it. We're still together."
Gordon is barely conscious now, beyond speech, beyond movement. But Alan hears his answer loud and clear, regardless.
Always.
~The End~
