Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to any of the characters in this story, which is a real shame in so many ways! All rights belong to Carlton and Mr. Anderson, and any others I haven't mentioned here.
Author's Notes: Firstly, I'd like to thank Hobbeth for beta-ing this story for me. I'm really grateful for her help and valuable input in making this story even better to read.
Secondly, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed my other story The Gift – every review is greatly appreciated.
Now for the story – you may want to note that this is an angst story, and that there is a character death. So don't say I didn't warn you : )
COLLAPSE
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Chapter 1: Beyond Control
A single, shallow beam of light penetrated the thick, dusty darkness. The creak of floorboards a countermelody to each played footstep. A loud creak reached through the entire house, an alert of the unsteadiness of the structure, threatening to crumble at any time soon. The earth poised to swallow the house whole, taking any occupants with it.
Smothered in darkness, the lone figure continued forward, calling as loudly as he dared without causing too much vibration. The earthquake had weakened the structure of the double-storey home, sapping the strength from the building in less than a heartbeat. The surrounding area had fared just as badly, if not worse – several buildings had succumbed to nature's wrath and had already tumbled, trapping those who were unfortunate to be within. Many had perished before help could even be summoned, whilst others who had fought to remain alive had been rescued.
The air reeked of the stench of death and despair; stale and dusty with a lingering aroma of loss. This house was just one of the many that had stood on the street only hours ago, before Mother Nature had deemed it necessary to make Mankind suffer once more, to cope with an ever-changing world. It was natural, but yet it still angered him to think it happened.
His dry voice punctuated the air once more; the echo eerily resonating throughout the hallway in which he now stood. His only reply was the eminent groan as the walls struggled with the weight they supported. Sighing in reluctance and in small defeat, he resigned his search to the inevitable – there was no one alive in the house.
Quickly he made his way to the top of the stairs, leading to the security of the ground floor. The sounds of the creaking made him distrustful to the safety of the structure of the building, creating a sense of urgency for him to escape back out onto the street to where his brothers waited.
His brothers…he needed to alert them that this house was empty.
"Mobile Control – all clear in this one. I'm on my way out." Straightforward. Clear-cut.
Final.
With a glance down the long wooden staircase, he took a steadying breath to calm his taut nerves. A single step forward.
A strong creak, as the weight registered.
Then a fearful cry as the ground began to shake beneath him.
His body had never felt such a powerful rush of adrenaline as it quickly responded to the movement. He needed to get to the ground floor, away from the unstable house, knowing full well it could not survive another attack. One step after another took him closer to the floor below. Closer to the safety of the earth. Closer to the exit, away from danger.
If only he had moved sooner.
He had only taken two steps when the full force of the aftershock erupted beneath him. The staircase shook violently as he held on tightly to the banister – his white knuckles evident of just how tightly he clung on.
No, I need to get down from here – the stairs might collapse! His mind screamed with numbing terror. With legs not willing to obey his command, paralysed with a fear he knew only too familiarly, he pushed on toward the end – toward the last step.
He was halfway there when his worst fear was realised. With a final groan the staircase gave way, its strength sapped by the final attack. Finding nothing to grip hold of, he felt the weight of his body give way to gravity, falling towards the dark abyss that awaited with open jaws below…
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At Mobile Control, Scott fought to control his sense of panic. He was acutely aware there was an underlying possibility of aftershocks, but still the reality of it all failed to register in his mind. The vibrations were severe enough to cause more agitation to the area – as if there wasn't already enough devastation to contend with. But the safety of his brothers…that mind-numbing thought had planted itself in the front of his brain and now refused to budge.
The aftershock had only lasted for what felt like seconds, but it took longer for his body to stop shaking. A few seconds was all it took for the sudden movement to register in Scott's own mind as to what was happening, let alone those of his brothers. He had stepped back from Mobile Control, preferring to seek shelter from the open area just behind him.
The second the shaking had ceased, Scott raced back to his position at Mobile Control and punched the button that would open access to his brothers' wrist comms.
"Gordon! Alan! Virgil! Come in! Please report – are you all okay?" He couldn't hide the fear from his voice, the shake of his normally steady tone, now interwoven with a hint of dread. He hated his role at Mobile Control, feeling helpless and powerless to do nothing but listen.
At first there was no reply, sending shivers of trepidation down his spine and through his nerves. Fears of loss flashed through his mind at lightning speed, his worst nightmares threatening to come true. Punching the button with even greater urgency, he called again. "Can you hear me! Please, let me know you're alright!"
"Gordon here - I'm alright, but Alan's been injured. He was inside a house when the aftershock hit."
Breathing in a deep sigh of relief for his brother's answer, he held onto that breath as his brother informed him of the bad news. "How bad, Gordon?"
"Looks like both his legs are broken and possibly some ribs. He's unconscious, but his pulse is strong. I need a stretcher brought in."
"Okay, I'll go get it." Turning to leave, a brief flash of worry hit his mind again, pushing him to turn back to the control panel. "Gords, have you heard from Virgil?"
There was a brief pause as the question registered. "'Fraid not, Scott."
His anxiety hit at top level again, sending his body into override once more. "Alright, thanks Gords. I'll try him again."
Taking a moment to calm himself, he engaged communication with his eldest sibling. "Mobile Control to Virgil – can you read me Virg?"
His only reply was silence.
"Virgil this is Scott – can you hear me!" Professionalism already slipped away, Scott waited with bated breath for the reply he wanted – he so desperately needed to hear. But none came.
God, no. This can't be happening… "Thunderbird Five from Mobile Control. Come in John."
"Thunderbird Five here. Is everything okay there Scott?" The tinge of worry clearly audible in John's voice, having heard the earlier attempts for contact with his older brother.
"John, can you give me Virgil's last known location? He's not responding."
A moment's pause allowed for the astronaut to refer to the readings surrounding him. Though he couldn't even begin to perceive what was racing through Scott's mind, he could feel the tension transmit over the airwaves. "His last location was a couple of blocks away – the third house on the street." The simple pressing of a button was all it took for the co-ordinates to be sent to the control panel.
"Thanks John." The field commander in him took control rushing quickly to the surface, knowing that was all that was giving him the strength to remain relatively calm.
But only on the outside.
With steady legs, but a shaky heart, Scott manoeuvred over to his silver craft, standing safely away from the devastation and chaos of the earthquake. Reaching the medical supplies, he pulled all that he could carry in his arms and on his back. It was at times like this he wished he could split his body into two.
Rushing back over to Mobile Control, he noted the position that John had sent him from far above in outer space, then headed over to Gordon's position located just a few hundred feet from where he now stood. He closed his eyes, taking time to steady his already frayed nerves.
He hoped to God that Alan was okay.
He hoped to God that Virgil was alive.
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He didn't dare to open his eyes.
His conscious could only imagine the worst that had happened. Had he lost consciousness? He wasn't sure.
The darkness behind his eyelids offered no comfort, especially with the sounds of crumbled debris settling around him still. With apprehension he opened his eyes, only until they were no more than slits. All he could see was a cloud of dust.
Opening his eyes wider caused a surge of pain to flood his head. Wincing, he took a deep breath to steady himself…
…only to gasp from an even greater pain that sliced through his chest.
The pain caused the rising panic within him to spike tenfold, forcing short, shallow breaths in response. Such shallow breaths viciously caused even more pain to pierce his chest, resulting in a cruel spiral of pain generating more pain. His eyes smarted with pain-filled tears, desperately clung back.
The pain filled fire seemed to be fiercest on his left side, where he presumed he had fallen awkwardly. Somehow finding some energy to attempt to move, he brought his haggard breathing under a degree of control and readied himself to move his arms. The right arm moved to his side without a hitch. The left arm brought a new wave of agony to wash over him. He silently screamed.
The tears began to fall as he gave up the attempt to move. He was pinned down somehow, paralysed with the torturous agony in his left side that had slid all the way down his torso into his legs. Anxiety nibbled at his mind, along with a somewhat morbid curiosity as to how bad his injury was.
Tenderly, so as not to aggravate the area, he felt along his chest where the breastbone was located, over his ribs and then over to…
There it was. He almost heaved then and there with the sick discovery. A cold, hard, sharp object that didn't need a science degree to identify, nor a medical degree to determine it was now lodged in his body and had caused untold damage both inside and out.
A rusty metal spike, slimy with his blood, speared through his chest at an almost ninety degree angle.
Realisation, mixed with panic and horror, drew more pain as he lost control and began to gasp quickly. His body fought to gather more oxygen to feed his starved organs. Blood flooded the front of his uniform, turning the cobalt blue to an ugly shade of burgundy, sickly dark and sticky. Weakly, he pressed his good right arm around the wound, knowing there was little else he could do.
"Mobile Control to Virgil – can you read me Virg?" The unmistakeable voice of his brother caused him to involuntarily jump, though it gave him some relief. Brief relief, shattered by the realisation that the voice came from the wrist comm. – on his left arm.
Damn! I can't…can't move it… As though to make sure, he tried again. A bolt of pain not unlike electricity shot through his shoulder and chest, almost blinding him back into unconsciousness. With reluctance he could only whisper back, "I'm here."
"Virgil this is Scott – can you hear me!"
"I can hear you…" the voice so small, fear-tinged and pain-filled, like a lost child begging for the comfort of his parent. A small trickle of blood began to flow from the corner of his mouth, parallel to the tear from the corner of his eye. To say he was afraid now was nothing short of an understatement.
"Scott, help me…please…"
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An assurance from Gordon that he could handle things had to be enough for Scott's overworked mind. His protective trait was in overdrive, knowing he had three brothers to account for and safeguard. Gordon assured him Alan would be fine, and that he was able to transport him over to Thunderbird Two's medical bay by himself.
Before the assurance was even complete, however, Scott had already headed away to his next port of call. Clambering over the rubble of remains of houses that had stood not long ago, he quickly rushed to his brother's aid, knowing time was of the essence.
Time…
The word mocked him. Scorned him for not giving a warning. Tortured him for fearing the worst.
As he looked toward his goal he gave a sudden gasp at seeing the destruction for the first time. The real possibility he had lost a brother hit him with a devastating cruelty. No! Mustn't think like that! He scolded himself brutally. But how could anyone still be alive in those ruins?
The house stood no more, the dust settling like ashes over a grave. Timber and concrete littered the ground, the only pieces left of a grand house that once stood proud on the very same spot.
With a fear-gripped heart Scott ran toward the rubble, his consciousness blocking out the forming images of his brother's broken bloodied body lying helplessly under the debris.
At first he saw nothing – just endless piles of rubble laid upon rubble. He quickly sifted through what he was able to with his bare hands – hands that shook hard, making it more awkward to hold on to anything. Heading towards what had been the back of the house he noted the remains of a step, presumably where the staircase had once stood. Now only the last step remained.
He didn't know what it was that told him to look there, but he followed his own instruction and headed to the wooden pile where the staircase had collapsed. Almost immediately he spotted a hand, lying motionlessly in the dirt and dust.
Scott's emotions were raging everywhere inside him – he didn't know whether to cry tears of joy or despair. Hoping for the former, he continued to pull away the fallen timbers until he had created a means of accessing the owner of the hand. His eyes traced the arm attached to the hand…then stopped short as a metal spike came into view; the dire situation now painfully clear. The image of the blood-soaked spear penetrated through to his bone, imprinting the image forever in his brain.
Oh my God…no…please no…
Taking no notice of the scratches he inflicted on his own body, his focus instead now set on the body in front of him, he scrambled forward until he was knelt beside his brother.
With trembling hands he felt for a pulse…and almost broke down with joy when he found one. The elation only brief, as he noted the pulse's weakness. At the touch, Virgil's eyes opened painfully, taking a moment to focus on Scott. Virgil's face was frighteningly pale, his colour drained along with the blood that now covered his uniform. Scott turned quickly, fighting to suppress the feeling of nausea that rose from his stomach. He tried to slide his professional face into place to mask his worried expression, but failed miserably, leaving himself open to be read as easily as a book.
Ice-blue eyes met those of Autumn-brown ones, the fear conveyed through a silent channel only these two shared. No amount of words could express the concern and alarm each felt in that frame of time. Scott's eyes betrayed the anxiousness that gripped his heart like a cold hand. Virgil's were glazed over with incomprehensible panic and a loss of control he was unknown for. He never lost control, or his composure. The sight of such loss of control almost unnerved Scott far more than the metal spike had done.
"Oh God…oh my God…" He stared in despair at the scene presented to him, dread filling his veins. "It's okay Virg, just…" He swallowed to gain even a miniscule of composure. "…just hang in there. Stay with me."
Some sense of thought returned to his frozen mind, kicking him into action. He lifted his wrist comm. to speak into, to ask for help he so desperately needed right there. "Gordon come in, this is Scott."
After a moment's pause, a welcomed response was given. "Gordon here. Any luck finding Virgil?"
"I've found him, but it's not good news…" His voice sounded strained, crackly with highly-taught emotion restrained from release. "He's…he's in a bad way. I need you to go and get some of the laser cutters from Thunderbird Two. He's…" The image flashed before his eyes again, forcing him to close them to block out the scene. "…he's impaled on a steel spike of some kind, and I need to cut him loose."
There's so much blood Gords…
"Okay Scott, I'll be with you as soon as I can. You just hang in there an' watch over Virg for us. Got it?" Gordon's small attempt to comfort his brother fell on almost deaf ears. "Stay with us Scott…"
Scott's mind had partly shut down, beginning to succumb to the shock. What little of Gordon's speech registered was soon forgotten, failing to be encoded in his mind. "Stay with us Scott…"
The last thought smacked him hard, jolting him back to reality. Raising a hand slowly above the body of his brother, he cautiously placed it around the wound where the spike had penetrated through. The blood was still warm, streaking the uniform as it flowed freely from the gaping wound. He felt so far away…
He needed to be closer.
With shaky legs he stood on equally shaky earth and rubble beneath him, scrambling his way around to Virgil's right side – taking care to avoid a similarly dangerous spike just opposite from the one that had impaled Virgil. Kneeling with such delicacy, as though too much movement would crack the ground beneath, Scott eased his hands beneath Virgil's head and gently cradled him in his arms – avoiding too much movement so as not to aggravate his brother's injuries.
Virgil was thankful for the gesture, feeling some of the warmth from Scott's body flow freely into his own. For a moment he closed his eyes to welcome the warmth and tenderness, making him briefly forget the pain that pierced through his chest like a lance. He felt the soft touch of his elder brother's fingers as they weaved through his chestnut hair, soothingly rhythmic with each stroke. He needed nothing else but his brother there and then, and silently he knew Scott needed no one but him in return.
Leaning Virgil's head on his knee, Scott subconsciously began the comforting strokes through his brother's hair. An action he had performed many times during his childhood, most frequently during the period after their beloved mother's death. The motion seemed to ease the Tracy boys' pain, letting them know he was there for them without the need for words. They felt safe, comforted; watched over even, as though he was looking over them protectively.
He hadn't felt the small rise of panic in Scott's body when he had failed to open his eyes. A pair of trembling fingers felt the side of his neck for the sign of life, in advance of an audible soft release of breath when one was found. Feeling his strength grow weaker, Virgil summoned his reserve energy to reach up his hand to grasp that of his best friend.
His soul mate.
His touchstone…
Even that was not enough to describe his relationship with the eldest Tracy son, but it would come close.
Feeling the grasp on his hand, Scott looked to Virgil's face, finding brown eyes lock determinedly with his own. "It's gonna be okay, Virg. You've just got to hang in a little longer for me." The words so softly spoken, a voice taut with emotion not willing to be expelled, remaining hidden just below the surface.
His brother's form fell in and out of focus; his eyelids losing the energy they required to stay open. He wanted to sleep – his body was so drained, and his mind so tired. The black abyss seemed to greet him with such promise…
"No, no Virg – you mustn't go to sleep! Stay awake if you can, just a few minutes more…" His voice faded in and out in a haze, the words blurring together as though they were melting.
Seeing his brother's fight for consciousness, Scott's fear escalated to new-found heights. His grip on the hand tightened, not wanting to let go, not wanting to submit to the blindingly obvious fate that awaited them.
"Please, hold on…please…don't leave me…" The voice no more than a whisper, begging a heart-wrenching plea to anyone who could hear him. "Please, not now…promise me…not this time."
Behind them part of the wall that once held the building firmly in place gave way, exposing some of the outside world to the two siblings. Through the dust and debris, a tiny ray of pure sunlight pierced through the dark void, falling onto the ground beside the two men.
Scott hadn't realised he had been gently rocking Virgil's weakened form until he looked up to where the light entered. Through all the destruction and chaos left behind by the earthquake, there was new hope and new light to be cast.
Virgil gave a weak cough as the oxygen his body craved was becoming increasingly harder to seize. Scott's worried look stared back down to the man in his arms, holding tighter still with desperation. "No, no, no please – please don't leave me, Virgil…promise me you won't leave me…"
With a compassionate but knowing smile, Virgil turned his gaze up to the man he had held so highly in his life.
"I promise…"
His gaze remained fixed on those blue eyes for one last time, reinforcing that promise with his heart and soul, until his own eyes could focus no more. He felt the darkness surround him, smother him and pull him away – back into the dark abyss he had been falling into for what seemed like an eternity.
Into the place where Scott could hold him no more…
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To be continued…
