Why are these things never noticed at the time? Is it because of adrenaline perhaps? Maybe it was there at the time and I just didn't notice? I mean, I noticed pain, but nothing out of the ordinary, considering my line of work. Whatever the reason, I'm certainly noticing it today.

It was easy to trace the cause. Rescuing Kat. It had to be. When those rocks fell, I leaned over her without even thinking twice. She was injured and was therefore unable to move when the slide occurred, so I moved to protect her. I'm not even sure how many of them hit me, but it definitely hurt.

Back at the ranch, Virgil checked me over while John and Brains performed a final few tests to confirm the Thunderbirds were safe to use. Apparently, I was moving stiffly and he didn't like it, so took me from the den to my bedroom. Turns out I've got a lot of bruising over my back and a few cuts and scrapes. I wasn't surprised, to be honest, it was sore, but I've been through worse. I let him clean me up and dress the wounds before heading back downstairs. Just in time for him to leave to take Ms Kavanaugh to the hospital in town.

Not that town is particularly local to Grand Roca. Even in Thunderbird Two, it had taken a forty-five-minute round trip to relocate her.

The ranch was strangely quiet after that. I think we were all trying to process what had happened that day, between the rescue and the intruder. Even after the others had gone to bed, I was still sat in the window, watching the stars and wondering how on Earth the Mechanic had gotten through our defences without us realising. That fact more than anything filled me with dread, that he could get so close to us without any of us being aware. I didn't notice how much time had passed without my moving, until John, unable to settle into a normal sleep pattern, had come downstairs for a drink and found me sat in the dark and still staring out the window.

I'd been sat so still for so long, I found it a bit difficult to fully straighten at first. I put it down to being cramped up in the corner of the window seat.

But now, the morning after, I'm lying in bed, wondering if I can even sit up. My back is spasming painfully and I can just about roll onto my sides, but that's it. I try to sit up but I can barely move before it's hurting me. It's frustrating and I don't like it at all. Not least because of the pain but also because, the way it's feeling right now, I wonder if I'm going to need help just to get out of bed. My morning run is certainly out of the question.

Gritting my teeth, I managed to roll closer to the side of my bed, glad it's only a single, and manage to manoeuvre my feet down to the floor. I'm still leaned forward over my knees at this point and I'm not certain I can sit up. And even if I can, do I want to? The pain is pretty bad.

A deep breath later and I manage to force myself upright, though it involves me pushing my hands against my knees and more than a few curses I'd scold Alan for using.

However, now that I'm upright, it feels so much worse, like someone is compressing my spine with something sharp and hot.

I manage to stagger to the unit near my bed, bracing myself against it to help me remain standing. This isn't going to be a good day if this is how I feel now. I have my suspicions that Virgil will tell me no rescues until I can move more freely. I'm inclined this once to just agree. I'm not entirely sure I'm going to be able to leave my room, let alone get to Thunderbird One.

A sudden spasm has my knees jerking and my hand clamping on the edge of the unit to stop me tumbling to the floor. It takes me a moment of confusion, wondering why it's suddenly dark before I realise my eyes are screwed shut. I manage to slowly prise them open and look around. I'm not too far from the drawers I keep my clothes in. I can do this. I can get that far, right?

It's slow going and each step is tremendously painful but I finally manage to get to the drawers. I find I have to lean on them to get my breath back. This is ridiculous. How am I going to get anything done today? And what if we get a call?

I can feel my shoulders dropping. I hate this, knowing that I'm going to be of no use to my brothers should we have a situation. Even worse, I'm going to be a burden to them if there's little I can do without help.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I give myself a mental shake. I'm a Tracy, I'll get through this.

I hope.

It's around thirty minutes later that I hear a knock on my door. I've managed to get as far as a fresh shirt but pants and socks are proving to be an issue. I look at the door as I hear another knock. I quickly assess whether I'm in a position to invite the visitor in. I'm decent, still wearing my old track shorts I wear to bed. It's only a matter of time before the others come looking for me anyway. "Come in," I call out, annoyed with myself that my voice is betraying the pain I'm feeling.

The door opens and Virgil walks in. "I came to see how you're feeling this morning," he says, eyeing the way I'm holding myself, or rather, how I'm using the furniture to hold myself. "Don't even try to apply your poker face, Scott. I can already tell you're hurting. Don't you dare tell me you're fine."

I shake my head, feeling utterly dejected. "Not going to," I mutter. "I can barely move, Virgil. Took me all of half an hour to put my shirt on. Not sure I can bend far enough for my socks."

"Your back?"

I nod, gritting my teeth against another spasm that has me twitching sideways with the ferocity of it.

Virgil is by my side in three long strides, his hand on my arm. "I had a feeling you'd be struggling this morning after that rock slide but I hadn't anticipated it'd be this bad."

"I guess I'm lucky to have gotten away with it this long," I admit, looking up at him. "Dad suffered with his back and so did Grandpa, so it runs in the family. And in the heat of a rescue, I don't always consider manual handling, I just react."

"I've noticed," Virgil says.

"So now I pay the price. Reckon the rock slide was the, uh, the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back."

"Or yours." Virgil sighs. "You're not gonna like me saying this, but you know you've gotta keep moving as much as you can, right? It'll seize up entirely if you don't move it."

I nod again. "I know. It's just trying to actually make my back do what I want it to."

"I know. So, you're trying to get dressed, right? Take your clothes back to your bed and sit down rather than trying to bend. You might find that easier."

"If I can get back over there, that is," I point out.

"Take it slowly, Scott, just don't stop yourself from trying to move, you'll only make it worse. You gotta find the balance. Too much isn't gonna help, but nothing will definitely be bad. But, here, let me take your clothes for you. Knowing you, you'll drop something and trip over it."

"Oh don't," I moan at him, handing them over. "Don't tempt fate."

Virgil takes them, holding his hands up. "Alright, alright. Just take it easy. Push yourself a little, not your usual standards of pushing, please."

I look from him to my bed, sure it was further away than usual. "Alright," I tell myself. "I can do this."

The steps are painful but the more I move, the easier it feels, until finally I'm back at my bed. I sit on the edge, feeling exhausted, the pain in my back beginning to radiate from my lower spine to my hips.

"You okay?"

"I'll let you know in a minute," I reply, breathing deeply, shifting slightly on the mattress as I try and find a comfortable position. Difficult really, seeing as it's hurting so much. I look at the clothes Virgil has put on the bed beside me and turn to pick up the socks, but the act of twisting to reach them sends another spasm up my spine. I straighten quickly, withdrawing my hand.

"Easy, Scott, easy," I hear Virgil soothing me as he sits down. "Try not to turn your back right now. See if you can reach them by leaning."

I do as he suggests, leaning to the side to extend my reach, picking up the garment. "This is ridiculous, Virgil," I groan, disgusted at myself for how pitiful I sound.

"Scott, you just gotta give yourself time. It will get better. Remember what Dad was told once? Back problems are like bruises. If you keep whacking a bruise in the same place it'll never get better. You've gotta rest enough that it can recover which means you have to slow down."

"It did feel a bit easier once I'd been moving a bit," I admit. "The hardest part so far is sitting and lying."

"You'll possibly find standing in one position too long won't be nice if you're anything like Dad," Virgil offers.

"Wonderful."

"Scott, it could be a lot worse considering how many rocks landed on your back yesterday. It was a pretty bad slide."

"Right now, I'm not sure how it could be worse," I say, feeling my face contort as another spasm jolts through me.

"I know, Scott," Virgil says, his tone still attempting to soothe me. "Just try and get dressed and I'll help you downstairs if you need me to."

"I'll let you know."

Virgil smiles at me, trying to look sympathetic. "I'll go get you some painkillers."

"Okay."

He pats me on the shoulder gently as he stands up. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Alright," I say, watching him leave before I look back at the socks in my hand. "Okay, I can do this." I'll keep telling myself that. I will do this.

When Virgil returns I've managed to finish getting dressed and I feel a sense of achievement, like a toddler clothing himself for the first time without the aid of his parents. I'm aching, but I did it.

Virgil smiles at me as he walks over, tablets in one hand and a glass of water in the other. "Grandma was grilling me when I went down. Prepare yourself."

"I'd anticipated that, to be honest," I tell him.

"Hmm, yeah, she was wondering why you haven't been down for breakfast yet."

"Not sure I want anything," I mutter. The pain was definitely robbing me of my appetite.

"You need to try and eat something, especially with painkillers, you know."

I nod. "Yeah, I know." Bracing myself for what I know will be yet more discomfort, I lift myself from the bed again. "Ugh, Virgil, why did I allow myself to become target practice for rocks?"

"Would you really have let them fall on Kat? Even if you'd known what would happen?"

"I guess not," I reply, my movement juddering as I attempt to straighten up again.

Virgil is at my side again, holding out the medication. I look at it in his hand before I sigh, taking it from him. "This gonna be part of my diet for a while I suppose."

"If you're in so much pain you can't even stand up without jerking like a puppet, then yes, Scott, I think you're gonna need to take some. I'd suggest taking one in the morning to stop you tensing so much. That's what's making it that much worse. You need to let it relax."

"Easier said than done." I look at the medication once again before putting the tablets into my mouth, swallowing them with the water. "Ugh, those things taste disgusting."

Virgil shakes his head at me. "Just drink a little more water, wash the taste away. Breakfast will help with that, too."

With a nod I follow Virgil from my room, grudgingly accepting his help to get down the stairs.

It's slow going, each step feeling like a red-hot poker has been stuck between my vertebrae and by the time I'm at the bottom, I'm in agony, leaning heavily on Virgil.

"Scott?"

"Give me a minute," I mumble, my eyes screwed shut. I'm breathing deeply as the intense pain lessens now I'm not descending the stairs before finally it's back to the more manageable ache I've been experiencing between spasms.

Virgil waits a few moments longer before addressing me again. "You up for breakfast now?"

"We'll find out," I answer, following him through to the kitchen. I'm glad that the dining chairs are the old scrubbed wooden ones, the hard surface of them being far preferable to the squashy armchairs of the den and the support they provide my back feels good as I sit down.

"Scott? You okay?"

I turn at the sound of a small voice and see Alan heading over, having just entered the room, no doubt to investigate why I wasn't with the others for our morning meal.

"I'm alright, Al," I reply to him, offering a smile, though it feels fatigued. "Just not firing all thrusters today."

"He's hurt his back," Virgil clarifies as I knew he would. "Those rocks that fell while we were helping Kat seem to have done more damage than we first thought."

"Damage? Scott, are you broke?" Alan asks as he sits down next to me, his bright eyes full of worry as he looks at me.

"Yeah, think I am," I say, grunting as yet another spasm jerks me into a more upright position.

"Scott?"

"I'm okay, Al," I assure him. "Just a bit more painful at times." I look around for some kind of distraction. "Hey, uh, where are the others?"

"John's with Brains looking over ways to improve security here, oh and so's Kayo. And Gordon's with Grandma. I left them in the den when I heard you coming downstairs."

"I see," I mutter. I then realise my mistake. If I'm supposed to be having something to eat, I should have gone straight to prepare it. As it is, now I've sat down, I've got to face trying to stand again. But before I can even consider working up the motivation to try and move my aching body, a bowl of cereal is placed in front of me with a glass of orange juice.

I look up and see Virgil smiling down at me. "I wasn't exactly going to let you struggle, was I?"

"It's been known to happen," I reply, grinning back at him thankfully.

"Not when you're in this much pain, I wouldn't," Virgil retorts seriously.

I sigh, looking down into my bowl. "I know."

"Don't get used to it, though. You still need to keep as mobile as you can. I just thought I'd help you out this time."

My smile returns as I nod. "Yes, sir," I say, picking up my spoon.

"You seen any TV this morning?" Alan asks, watching me carefully.

I can't help but smile at him. I know he's waiting for an opportunity to come up in which he can offer to help with something. Most likely it'll be to take my empty bowl or glass. "I, uh, I haven't really had the chance yet, Al," I tell him.

"Oh, no, I guess not."

"Why do you ask?" I add, experimentally trying a spoonful of my cereal. For something so simple, it's one of my favourite breakfasts. Basic cornflakes with slices of banana. But it's serving as a distraction from the pain, if nothing else.

"Kat seems to have recorded that report she said she was gonna do from her hospital bed."

"Really?" I almost drop my spoon as I turn to face him. This news surprises me. I know she'd said she was going to go ahead with the report. I just didn't expect it to come so soon.

"She is a reporter, Scott," Virgil reminds me as he sits down with a mug of coffee. I look over at him, jealous of the smell of his morning brew and had been about to ask if there's any left in the pot when he pushes another mug forward. I smile gratefully as I take it from him.

"Thanks," I say, taking a sip of the warm coffee. "And I guess you're right. She did say she had a deadline."

"Actually, that's one of the things she's mentioned," Alan says. "The report should have gone out last night."

"I see." I look down at the cereal, the flakes starting to become soggy. I'm not certain I'm hungry anymore. I know what Kat said she'd say, but I still can't help but wonder if she would go with her original theories for the sake of ratings.

"Alan, maybe you should show him," Virgil suggests.

I watch as Alan goes over to the projector, tapping the switch that'll turn it on and selecting the report.

"This is Kat Kavanaugh, unfortunately not reporting live today. I must apologise to you all that my report didn't arrive last night as promised, but in my desperation to try and incriminate International Rescue in the affairs of the Hood or the Mechanic, I ended up needing their services after falling foul of a rock slide. Despite the things I'd been saying about them, International Rescue still turned up to save me. And I can't even claim they hadn't seen the report because it was clear they had. Yet they didn't hold it against me. They were professional and courteous and incredibly efficient. I can now confirm with full certainty that they are not working with either of the aforementioned criminals after some of their number were put in danger when the Mechanic infiltrated their base. And considering what I'd been saying, I fully expected them to leave me to help their own when they learned of the Mechanic's involvement but they didn't. They still rescued me. And took care of me. One of them even protected me with their own body to stop more sliding rocks from landing on me. So now, I'm here, in a hospital room having treatment for two broken legs and a whole lot of bruising. My report is not live, but it's still being recorded because International Rescue saved me. And, if you're watching, I want you to know, I regret all the things I implied about you in my previous report. There's no way you could be working with them, I saw the look of genuine outrage when you realised the Mechanic was involved in the issues you'd been facing. So, thank you, International Rescue, and please forgive me. This is Kat Kavanaugh, signing off."

As the image fades off again, I look between my two present brothers, smiling a little. "I'll be honest, I was worried about what she might say."

"I could tell," Virgil replies. "But she was true to her word in the end."

I nod, looking back down at my breakfast. I try a few more mouthfuls but I've left it too long. "I'll sort this out then I'd better go look over the reports from yesterday."

"Alright," Virgil agrees.

"Want me to take that for you, Scott?" Alan asks.

"No, it's alright, Alan," I insist. "Thanks for the offer, but you've got stuff you need to do, right?"

"Only that homework Grandma set me."

"Exactly," I reply. "The sooner you get it done, the sooner you can do other stuff."

"I guess," he mumbles.

"Go on, Alan," I say, hoping my tone is reassuring. "It's not the usual amount of work she's set you, is it?"

"Well, no, it's just, I thought being out here I wouldn't get any."

"We're not out here for a vacation, you know," I remind him. "That's why the Thunderbirds are here, too."

"I know," he sighs. "Alright."

"Good man," I say. "Soon as you're done, come find me and we can go over some specs together. See how up to speed you are on our equipment. How's that?"

Alan's dejected expression turns into a more hopeful one. "Really?"

"Sure, why not? It's technically still working."

"Yeah, but the equipment specs are far more interesting."

"There you go then. You have an incentive to get your homework done sooner."

Alan grins. "Alright, Scott!" he says, running off.

I chuckle slightly as I watch him then lean forward to get up, wincing as my back reminds me we're not friends today.

"Need a hand up?" Virgil asks.

"No, I got this," I insist, leaving my bowl and glass on the table. I decide instead of trying to stand with things in my hand, I'll first see if I can succeed in getting out of my chair before picking the items up. I can feel my back groaning against the tension of movement again and I grit my teeth before finally I'm upright again. "There," I say, a little breathless.

Virgil just inclines his head. "Keep it up," he says. "Need anything? Brains wants me to look over those old hoverbikes with him. We were wondering if it might be something we could resurrect for general use."

"You go ahead. I'm only washing these up then heading to the training room."

"You're not gonna have another go with those gecko gloves, are you?" Virgil teases, smirking at me.

"You know normally I'd win in a race to the top," I retort then shake my head. "No, I just want to go in and check the reports, remember? Easier to use Brains' console."

"Alright, but don't forget to take some more meds later."

"I'm sure my back will frequently remind me," I grumble, wincing at another spasm. "Like it has right now."

Virgil's smile is sympathetic. "There's not really much else I can do for you, I'm afraid. You're just gonna have to persevere with this."

I nod, sighing. "I know." I pick up my bowl and glass, leaving my coffee mug on the table for now, and take them to the sink to wash them out as Virgil leaves the room.

I rinse the articles out, washing them slowly as I watch the wind blow dust around outside and not expecting to hear anything besides the running of the water. So, when I hear a voice behind me, a voice belonging to a person I didn't even hear approach, it's not surprising when I jump. The sudden movement really doesn't help my already disagreeable back and I have to cling to the edge of the sink to remain upright, my eyes screwing shut again. This is seriously beginning to not only frustrate me, but I swear it feels like the pain is getting worse.

"Whoa, Scott, I'm sorry!"

There's a pair of hands on my arms and the owner of the voice, who I belatedly work out is John, helps me stand up again.

"It's alright," I say through my gritted teeth.

"Well, it's clearly not," John points out as he releases my arms. "I didn't mean to make you jump like that. I thought you'd heard me approaching before I said hello."

"I guess I was in my own world."

"So it would seem. Virgil advised me of your want to check on the reports. I thought I'd join you."

"To keep an eye on me?" I ask, feeling slightly more frustrated now. Were they going to hover round me?

"Well, no, I mean, I can if you need, but, no, I was just going to offer my assistance," John answers, sounding flustered. "Are you alright?"

I look up at him. It's hard to be mad at John, even when he's asking stupid questions.

"I mean, I can see you're clearly not. Is it your back?"

I sigh and nod. So, it would appear the rapidity of information spreading through the family isn't up to its usual standards. I would have expected Alan or Virgil to have mentioned something to the others by now. "Yeah," I mutter. "Yeah, it's, um, it's kinda painful."

"Scott Tracy, ever the master of understating," John says, raising an eyebrow. "The look on your face just now would suggest it's more than just kinda painful."

"Well, mostly it's manageable when it's not spasming on me like it just did. I twisted when you made me jump."

John looks awkward now. "I'm sorry, Scott," he says quietly. "I didn't realise you not noticing my arrival would have that effect on you."

I shrug slightly. "Don't worry, it's not your fault. To be honest, standing in that one position while I washed my bowl didn't really help."

"I suppose not," John replies. "Is there, uh, is there anything I can do to help?"

"Right now? Is a replacement spine possible?"

John smiles softly. "Not sure that's something I can accommodate, Scott."

"I figured," I reply, carefully making my way back over to the table to pick up my coffee mug.

"It's bad enough to affect your mobility?"

"At first. If I've just had a spasm it seems to be worse, but it's better to keep moving and it loosens up. But sitting or standing in one position too long isn't great." I take a sip of my coffee, frowning and screwing up my nose when I realise it's gone cold. "Typical."

"Cold coffee?"

"Mmm hmm," I mumble, looking into the mug. I look up at John as he takes it from me. "Hey!"

"Scott, it's cold. You've got to let it go. I'll make you a fresh one while you make your way to the training room."

"Not gonna tell me to take it easy or anything?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Why? You just told me movement is beneficial."

I smile at him. "Thanks, John," I say, turning to make my way down to the training room.

When I finally get there, I'm feeling a bit better. Although my back still aches, I'm also still moving which is a bonus.

I head over to the console and log in, accessing the reports and the video records of the previous day's training. I wonder if I can spot something in the background, some clue as to how the Mechanic could have been onsite while we were here and yet not one of us notice anything wrong.

John returns, handing me my coffee. "Want some help?"

"No, it's alright. I got this," I reply, taking the beverage. "Thanks."

"Well, I'll be with Brains if you need me."

"Thanks, John," I say, smiling at times I put the mug down again.

I start the recording as John leaves and step back, watching it on the screen slightly above me, my arms linking behind my back.

As I watch, my arms fall loose at my side before reaching out so I can grasp the back of the chair in front of me. Before I can even realise what I'm doing, it seems, I'm holding onto the chair for support, my focus on the recordings lost.

"Scott?"

I hear my grandmother's voice but my back feels like it's locked up with this spasm, my knees buckling slightly from the intensity, and I find I can't turn. My knuckles are turning white from my grip on the chair.

The next thing I feel is her gentle hand on my shoulder, the other trying to loosen my fingers. "It's alright, Scott," she says, her tone soothing. "It's alright. Virgil explained what's happened, but don't forget to breathe."

I realise with her reminder that I have been holding my breath through the pain and release it shakily, finally letting go with the hand she's been trying to free and grasp hers.

"I know, Scott," she whispers. "I know it's hurting, but you gotta breathe."

I nod, screwing my eyes shut. I'm embarrassed to feel tears filling behind my eyelids. I don't want her to see that.

The hand on my shoulder slides down to rub my back gently. "It's alright, Scott," she says quietly. "We're alone in here. You let out what you need to. Don't be ashamed of tears."

I open my eyes and look at her, though my vision is blurry now as those tears are released. "I'm sorry," I mutter.

"Whatever for?"

I attempt to shrug but that was a bad idea, pulling on my already tortured back. I groan at the pain, which feels like it's radiating into my hips again and even as far as down to my knees this time. I shake my head, frustrated and fed up as more tears spill down my cheeks.

"Scott, you can't help the way you're feeling. You just need to get through it."

I sigh, my breathing still shaky from the ferocity of this spasm. My hand, the one not holding Grandma's, is still clamped tightly on the back of the chair.

"Let go of the chair, Scott," Grandma says. "You need to move. You've been stood still too long."

"Was watching the recordings," I mumble, trying to release my fingers but each time I do I feel like I'm going to fall down.

"I know, Scott," Grandma replies. Her tone is so reassuring and gentle. "And I've got you, Scott. You can let go. I won't let you fall. I might be older, but I can still help my boy."

I look round at her. I want to wipe my eyes but both my hands are busy right now.

"Let go, Scott," she says again, the hand on my back moving so her arm is round me.

I take a deep breath and force my hand to let go on the chair. My knees give way slightly, fresh tears fall, but Grandma is there, holding me up.

"Easy, Scotty, I got you," she says. With one arm round my back and the other holding my hand she helps me take a few steps away from the console. Between us, we manage to do a circuit round the room and slowly my back begins to feel a bit better. At the very least, I can feel myself relaxing, the tension leaving me as it eases.

"Hey, Grandma, did you find him?"

I freeze at the sound of Gordon's voice approaching and look at my grandmother. I'm not sure I want him to see me like this, probably red faced and a mess from crying.

"He won't tease you, Scott," she assures me. "You know that. Out of all your brothers, Gordon will understand the most."

That thought hadn't occurred to me. Of course he'd understand. He's suffered with his back since he was a teenager due to that hydrofoil incident. I nod, relaxing again.

"Yeah, I found him, Gordon," she calls out.

"What you doing down here?" he asks as he enters the room. "Ah, shoulda known." He's looking at the console still repeating the recordings, but then turns his focus on me and his expression changes. "Hey, Scott, you don't look so good."

I shake my head. The spasm has left me feeling so tired.

"That rock slide yesterday," Grandma says.

"Ah, of course," Gordon answers, nodding. "I wondered." He steps closer, his hand on my arm. "Looks like you're going through a pretty bad one right now, yeah?"

I nod. "It's passing though," I manage to say.

"That's good," Gordon replies. "I know just the thing to help you." He slips an arm round me, Grandma stepping out the way.

I've never quite realised how strong Gordon is, but he's supporting me now, helping me remain upright when all I want to do is let my knees give out.

"I'll take him from here, Grandma," he says.

"Alright, Gordon," she replies. "You're in good hands, Scott, you know that, right?"

I nod again. "Yeah, I know," I answer, letting him steer me through the training room and deeper into the underground complex.

Our progress is slow, but the movement is helping. Though I'm not entirely sure where we're going.

Gordon leads me on, remaining quiet as he goes. I've helped Gordon through instances like this in the past, on the days when he's pushed too hard and it's put his back out, or even just the days when for whatever reason, his back just decides it's having a bad day. I've always understood how hard it is for him. It's easy to see, though he does his best to mask the pain. But now, going through it myself, I realise that, actually, I didn't have a clue how bad it is. My respect for him has increased. He has days where the pain leaves him immobile, despite wanting to move around to ease it, and yet here I am, wet faced having cried like a baby in front of my grandmother and probably not going through anywhere near as much as he does.

"That's it, Scott, easy does it. We're going in here," he finally says, stopping at a doorway I don't often go through.

"Locker room?"

"I thought I was the only one who ever comes down here," Gordon says, smiling at me. "I think I've seen you in here once and that was when we were practicing life saving techniques."

I look from him, back to the door as my memory catches up with me. "The pool?"

"The pool," Gordon repeats. "It helps me. Aside from for training purposes, I think Dad had it installed in this facility because of me. Swimming is soothing because the water supports me."

I manage to smile. "Alright," I reply, letting him help me inside. "Not sure I have much energy left though."

"I'm not surprised," Gordon says. "The look on your face suggests it was a bad one, right?" I nod. "Then don't worry about actually swimming. If you feel you can, great. If not, just float and let the water do the rest."

I nod again as we go over to the benches. He's being so understanding, I can't even bring myself to feel embarrassed when I need assistance changing. Obviously, there are some things I won't ask him to help me with, I struggle through by myself, but between us, I'm soon ready to go in the pool.

"Alright, give me a minute to change and I'll come in with you," he says, going back to his own locker.

I nod then return my attention to the pool, lowering myself carefully to sit on the edge. The air is warm and humid but the water my feet are hanging in is cool and refreshing. I can vaguely hear the sound of the ventilation working around me, but it's a relatively quiet system so my focus is mainly on the sounds of the water rippling as I move my feet.

"Ready then?"

I look up as Gordon returns to my side. "Yeah."

"Are you gonna be able to slip off the side?"

I brace myself against my hands and lean a little, judging if I can do it. I hiss in a breath as I feel my back protesting so shake my head.

"It's alright," Gordon says. "We'll go to the ladder."

He helps me up and takes me over, getting in first to help me down. As soon as I'm in the water, the cooling pressure on my skin, I sigh deeply. It's feeling better already.

"Nice, huh?" Gordon says, smiling at me.

I nod and begin to wade in. At this end the water only comes up to my chest. I want to go deeper, where I can't feel the bottom.

When I finally feel like I'm swimming more than walking, I stop and let myself float upright, treading water. I'm so tired though. It's taken a lot of effort to get this far in.

"It's alright, Scott," Gordon assures me. "Honestly. Lie on your back and just float. It doesn't take as much energy as trying to remain upright."

I nod and allow myself to tip backwards. I let out a tired sigh as I feel the water taking my weight.

"Stay here as long as you need, Scott," Gordon says. "I'll stay with you."

"Thanks, Gordon," I reply. I lie there, looking up at the ceiling, Gordon floating nearby. He occasionally reaches out a hand so I know he's still there. I know I'm not going to be of much use to them over the next few days at the very least, but at least I know that they're here for me when I need them.