Scott's scream became unintelligible as he launched toward the cliff's edge. This could not be happening. This SHOULD NOT be happening. Not to Alan. Especially not Alan. His hand darted forward far too late, swiping at empty air in a futile attempt to grasp his brother and pull him to safety. "ALAN! ALAN!" he called out repeatedly, voice trembling. A sob wracked his throat when he didn't receive a response. He inched closer to the edge and tried to peer over the drop, but salty tears flooded his vision and he had to lift a shaky hand to clear his sight. "Alan, please. Alan!" His cries grew softer as he strained against the stinging wind and his own fear, eyes searching wildly for a blue uniform, a red sash. He barely registered the tremor under his own feet, until the sound of grating rock and churning soil awakened a fresh wave of terror. He barely had time to flinch as the rest of the ground gave way underneath him, unable to take his weight.
Scott's back slammed hard against a wall of packed earth and wind-cut rock, propelling him outward into showering shards of dirt and stone. His breath expelled in a gasp of pain. There was a moment when he was suspended completely in air, body tingling in shock from the sudden sensation of the fall, before he landed heavily on a rough, sandy surface. The momentum forced his body into a few jerky rolls, causing his arms to scramble for purchase. His head glanced against a large craggy boulder first while the rest of his body followed suit. He curled tighter against himself as his right knee took the brunt of the impact and smashed agonizingly into the rock. A fresh scream was ripped from his lips. He slid a foot or so before his body finally came to a stop.
Mind-numbing pain radiated from his knee. He hugged the appendage closer to his chest, rocking slightly as he tried to both assess the injury and distract himself from the ache. He didn't even realize his eyes were squeezed shut until he had to force the heavy lids open. The uniform material was still intact across his knee, but the quick swelling was causing it to stretch uncomfortably tight across the throbbing flesh. He rotated his knee experimentally, releasing small grunts from the effort. Well, his kneecap seemed to be intact, but he'd be willing to bet a large goose egg was forming amidst a flurry of bruises. Satisfied with his knee's condition for the time being, he turned his attention to the rest of his body. Even though Virgil was considered the team medic, their father had ensured they were all adequately trained to handle basic medical emergencies.
Scott forced himself to remain still and take stock of his wounds. He'd sustained a heavy gash above his right eye from the boulder that was bleeding steadily, but not immediately concerning. A few headshakes proved his neck was okay. Superficial lacerations lined his back from the initial fall and then there was his knee…all in all, not too bad. He'd definitely had worse. He sat up slowly, his body a symphony of pain. A groan to his right drew his attention as he wiped away blood that was sluggishly dripping into his eye.
"Al?" his voice came out weaker than expected. "Al, I'm here. It's okay." Not willing to put too much weight on his knee just yet, Scott half-crawled, half-dragged himself to his brother's side. Alan had landed amidst a cluster of heavy brush, which mostly concealed him from view. The blonde was lying on his side, a gash immediately evident on the back of his head. Scott didn't see any other visible ailments, but his heart rate doubled at the thought of possible internal injuries. Scott laid a hand on the youth's face, rewarded with his brother's impossibly blue eyes fluttering open. Those piercing eyes flickered back and forth in confusion and another low moan that resembled 'Scott' drifted momentarily between them before being ripped away by the harsh wind.
"Hey buddy, just stay still. Okay? I need to make sure you're alright." Alan nodded his head slightly, but Scott's grip tightened, restricting the movement. "No, don't move your head. Lie STILL. Let me know if anything hurts." His brother's eyes remained slightly unfocused, but he managed a small verbal affirmation. Scott started at his head, murmuring apologies as he further inspected the large gash. It was swollen and deeper than his own. He was most likely suffering from a concussion. "Alan, you've got a nasty cut to the back of your head. What about your neck? Your back?"
The blonde swallowed thickly and shook his head slightly. Defying his brother's orders, even in this state, Scott thought wryly, but it was a hollow, scary thought. "No, it's – they're fine." Alan spoke dryly, voice hitching slightly but becoming stronger. "I mean, I-I'm bruised and everything hurts, but nothing's broken. I-I can breathe fine, it's just m-my head."
"That's good, Al. Real good. Relax, just relax." Scott did his best to comfort his younger brother; relief washed over him as he realized the blonde was scared more than he was injured. That head injury was worrisome, though…
"Scott? A-Are you…?" Now it was Scott's turn to stare in confusion, until he comprehended where Alan was going with his question.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I hit my head, too, but it's not as bad as it looks." He decided not to say anything about his knee just yet. He gingerly helped Alan sit up and scoot out of the brush so he could lie down on a more comfortable sandy patch of ground. Exhausted from even that small movement, Alan curled on his side again, his eyes again seeming to swim in and out of focus.
Scott shook his brother's shoulder gently until he garnered the attention of that deep blue gaze. "Al, I'm going to call John. I'm here, right beside you. Focus on my voice. Try to keep your eyes open. That's it. Keep them open." Scott repeated his advice like a mantra while he commed the space monitor. His hands were shaking badly and, out of habit, he ran his fingers through his hair until the second eldest answered his call.
"Scott? That was fast. Is this about Alan?" Scott's heart skipped a beat at John's flippant response. How did he know? Had he anticipated something like this would happen? He HAD been the one to suggest Scott go with a buddy in the first place. Scott's bravado shattered. Of course John would have seen this coming. Scott wasn't fit to lead International Rescue, he couldn't fill his father's shoes and he couldn't even protect his baby brother. John's voice continued to filter through the wrist communicator, his words flowing easily.
"Scott, relax. So you and Alan got in a fight. It happens. He's not mad at you, he's upset because he wasn't able to go on a more interesting mission."
Scott blinked stupidly. He slowly marshaled his thoughts together. Why was John acting like everything was fine? "No, John, I know, but—"
"Look. Everyone says stuff they don't mean. A LOT. I should know, because I have to listen to you guys all the time." Scott heard a soft exclamation of breath from John, who was probably launching himself into another area of the space station. "But you all get over it eventually. And anyway, you chose the absolute wrong time for my infinite wisdom. Virg and Gordon are about to arrive on scene."
"John, wait—"
"So, I've gotta go. I've already got five calls holding, and that's not including the low priority ones EOS is filing for later—"
"John, STOP!" Scott's throat seized from the violent outburst and he found himself fighting a coughing fit. This only exacerbated the resolute pounding in his head, his knee throbbing in unison as though a wicked thread connected the two injuries. John's voice maintained his outer professionalism, but Scott could hear the undertone of concern.
"Scotty? What's wrong?"
John only called him Scotty when he was trying to placate him or when something was wrong. Well, something was most definitely, horrifyingly wrong. A primal sob interrupted his coughs as he fought the urge to cry. "It's Alan. He fell. We both fell."
A harsh intake of breath, then: "Okay, Scotty. I hear you. Now, how far did you fall?"
How far? He hadn't even considered the distance. Looking upwards hurt his eyes and he closed them briefly against the onslaught of pain. He cracked one eye open then dropped his gaze to the ground, hoping the newfound ache would recede.
"Maybe twenty feet. I can't really tell. It's hard to look up. It's just so tall."
"No, that's good. Now, Scotty, I need you to be honest. Are you alright?" The eldest recounted his injuries hurriedly. His eyes latched onto the bloodied sleeve he'd been using for his head and he found it was hard to look away from the red stain.
"And Alan?" the voice prompted. Scott vaguely realized he might have stopped speaking, though he didn't know how much time had passed. "How's Alan?"
"He's okay. We were just talking. He's lying down now. No signs of internal damage or spinal injuries. It's just his head. The back of his head has a big cut."
"You're doing great, Scotty. Alan's awake? Can he speak with me?"
Scott nodded even though John was only receiving audio transmission. "Yeah, he's here." He turned to the astronaut and lightly jostled his shoulder. A sliver of fear assaulted him like an electric jolt when he didn't receive a response. "Al? Al?!" The youth's eyes remained firmly closed.
"Scotty? Talk to me." John's simple request was as biting as the horrid wind and felt equally as cold. Scott couldn't bring himself to respond. He repeated Alan's name over and over, touching his face. Nothing. His brother was breathing, yes, but he wasn't THERE. He'd fallen asleep. Unconscious, his brain supplied. But even as John started peppering him with more questions, Scott couldn't tune out the words thrumming with the rapid beating of his heart. My fault. My fault. My fault.
