Thankyou so much for all of the fantastic reviews! It was great to be so warmly welcomed back into the swing of things!
Wishing you all a MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Boann xx
The weather at Tracy Island had never been better. Bright blue skies held a perfect burning orb of yellow. A cool breeze kept the tropical heat to a bearable level. It looked like the approaching Christmas would see a sunny day. John rarely experienced this kind of weather, and normally, from his position in the shade on a sun lounger, he would have been grateful. But today, he was too busy brooding to notice. John was bored, and that was saying something. The gentle astronaut was known for his patience and peaceful character, but he was also a Tracy, and all Tracys loathed the term 'invalid'.
Absentmindedly, John shifted on the sun lounger to scratch under the cast on his left leg. Virgil had assured him that it was a clean oblique fracture.
"In English, Virg?" he had groaned. His head had been too foggy from sedatives and pain medication to understand what his brother was talking about.
Virgil hadn't shown any signs of irritation at having to explain. "It means the bone was cleanly broken at an angle. There were no problems regarding blood circulation to your leg or torn tissue. It could have been a lot worse."
Clean break or not, the injury was still immensely restricting. Until he was given the all clear by Virgil, he was officially off duty. He wasn't even allowed to help Onaha put up Christmas decorations!
But the injury wasn't the reason for John's frustration. It was a certain little brother. After returning from the disastrous rescue in Australia, John had been too disorientated from pain medication to see Alan. Virgil had reassured him that, apart from a few more bruises to add to his collection, Alan was physically okay. But a demanding string of rescues had inhibited John from seeing his little brother since the mines, and therefore he'd been unable to personally assess Alan's emotional state.
He had suspected that Alan's sleep was being interrupted. Every morning, his little brother would surface from his room half delirious with dark circles under his eyes. Until he'd had something to eat, Alan would remain in a semi-conscious state, not paying attention to anything around him. John had lost count of the number of times he and his brothers had had to raise their voices to shock Alan back to present.
To investigate his theory, John had taken necessary measures. He'd used his stargazing as an excuse to stay up until the early hours of the morning. He had heard no mumbling or signs of trauma coming from Alan's room across the hall, so when he came downstairs for a glass of water, he had been shocked to see his little brother there. Alan had made no sound coming to this part of the house, and it scared John how skilled Alan had become in being stealthy.
How long has he been perfecting the art of avoiding our attention?
One look at Alan had told John that his brother was upset. Sweat glistened on Alan's forehead, and his eyes were bloodshot as if he'd been crying. John was willing to bet Thunderbird 5 that Alan was having nightmares. The evidence was suggesting one thing, and even his father and brothers, who at first had been hesitant to believe the severity of Alan's distress, were growing concerned. On several occasions, their efforts to encourage Alan to talk had come very close to succeeding. There was no doubt Alan wanted to talk, but was scared to do so.
Even Virgil, who was normally ruthless in his role as the family medic, had up until now remained skeptical as to whether Alan's condition was serious. Of course, he had noticed a slight change in Alan's mood, but he, like the others, had been reassured by Alan's past willingness to talk. Over the years, they had found that pressuring Alan to divulge his feelings caused him to withdraw further. If he was given space, however, the young teen would always find one of them to confide in. John sighed. How could we all have just assumed that this time would be no different?
Mind you, John mused. Nine times out of ten, Alan would confide in Gordon, and with him in Thunderbird 5…
John leaned back in the sun lounger. Who am I kidding? Alan could have called Gordon anytime. Perhaps this is more serious than we first thought. But why wouldn't he talk to us? Why wouldn't he want to talk to me? I was there beside him during the accident. I saw how scared he was, how much pain he was in. Am I some kind of stranger to him? I'm not here very often, I know but…
The thing that was scaring John more than Alan's condition was how apparently unstable his relationship with his fellow blonde sibling was. Is my work costing me too much?
John pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He had left his radio on during Alan's rescue, and as a result was constantly plagued by the memories of Alan's strangled gasps and terrified voice.
"What are we going to do?"
"I lost Brian."
"Just get me out!"
"John?"
John was broken out of his trance by his father, who stood over him. He had been so withdraw in his thinking that he hadn't even realised his family had returned. How hard is it to miss a rocket landing in the pool? Although, being fair to himself, he had secluded himself from the pool area and found a spot near Kirano's garden to sit.
Jeff frowned at John's furrowed brow. "Headache?"
John smiled reassuringly and shook his head. "No, I'm fine." Gingerly he scooted over so that his father could sit at the end of the lounger. "How was the rescue?"
Jeff nodded, handing John the glass of water he held. "Mission successful, however eventful," he said.
John accepted the water but didn't drink. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Alan took a blow to the ribs," Jeff reluctantly explained.
John sat up straighter. "What? Is he okay?"
"Virgil's taking a look at him now," his father said.
John reached over the arm of the lounger to grab his crutches off the floor. Noticing his shifting, Jeff frowned. "Where are you going?" he asked.
"I'll give you one guess," grunted John.
"Hold on a minute," Jeff's hand on his arm stilled him. "Give the two of them some space. Alan will be fine. Virgil will take care of him."
"That's what I'm worried about," John mumbled. At his father's confused look, he explained. "You know what Virgil is like when he is in his 'medical magician' mode. If he smothers Alan too much, he may cause Alan to withdraw from us again."
Jeff nodded solemnly. "I trust Virgil to make the same judgment, as should you. You're not alone in your concern for Alan. Try not to feel as if you are his only guardian angel, John."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
If he asks me one more time, I'm going to scream, Alan grumbled to himself. He was sitting shirtless on a bed in the infirmary with his legs hanging over the side. He was trapped not by metal stack machines or rising water, but by a protective brother who was, in Alan's opinion, much too interested in medical science for him to be normal. Alan knew that the only way to satisfy Virgil was to indulge him, but it did not make it any less annoying.
Virgil stood directly in front of him, his hands gently probing Alan's chest. "Does that hurt?" he asked.
That's it.
Alan suddenly let out a loud and dramatic cry, causing Virgil to pull back with a look of surprise and concern. The expression disappeared when Alan raised his eyebrows.
Virgil let out a sharp sigh. "Don't do that," he reprimanded, resuming his examination.
"I thought you were getting bored with me giving you the same answer…all twenty times you've asked me that question," Alan grumbled. "I'm fine."
"If you were fine, your chest wouldn't be black and blue," Virgil replied.
Alan had to admit, his brother did have a point. The mottled flesh ached and throbbed, but the last thing he wanted was that kind of attention. His pain was punishment for being such a baby and letting silly nightmares affect him so much. The physical pain was trivial, and he could take it. More than anything, the images that had been revived by the blow were what had frightened him. Falling to the ground had brought flashes of falling through the floor. Hitting the ground had been like being pummelled by the stack machine again. The blow to his body; knocking the wind from him; the pressure against his chest had brought so much fear back to him.
"Alan!"
Alan's eyes snapped up to his brother's face. "What?" he asked, instinctively. Damn, I did it again!
"You with me, Sprout?" asked Virgil.
Alan nodded as his brother held up a penlight. "I'm going to shine a light in your eyes, okay?"
Alan swatted his brother's hand away. He'd had enough and the constant exhaustion he was currently suffering made him impatient. "Virg, stop! I didn't hit my head," he argued weakly.
Resignedly, Virgil put the penlight down. He braced himself on the bed, his hands on either side of Alan's legs. "Why did you space out like that?" he asked quietly. "You had me scared, Sprout. You need to tell me what's wrong."
Don't look him, whatever you do, Alan told himself as he stared downwards. Finally, he said, "I'm just tired."
It didn't seem to satisfy Virgil, but he ceased his examination and handed Alan a shirt. Alan grimaced as his pulled it over his head. He slid gently off the bed and was about to make for the door when he was enveloped in a soft hug.
Virgil's voice was filled with concern. "Just take it easy, okay," he murmured.
Alan nodded, a lump forming in his throat. Oh God, please don't cry!
He pulled away and forced a smile as Virgil stood in front of him. The close proximity had suddenly grown unnerving. The ceiling seemed too low and the walls were closing in. His vision swam for a moment he felt like he was going to fall over. His stomach churned. Oh no...He couldn't possibly be...
He dashed into the infirmary bathroom and reached the toilet just in time. Next he was uncontrollably retching into the bowl.
His muscles convulsed, sending pain rippling through his chest. He braced himself against the seat and sobbed. He felt a hand on his back. "Take it easy. Just relax," Virgil spoke to him softly. Alan grunted as he retched again. His brother supported him firmly, but managed not to cause him pain. He was tempted just to sag exhaustedly in Virgil's arms.
The bout didn't last for long, but by the end of it, he was shivering. "Why am I sick?" he swallowed.
"Pain? Stress?" Virgil offered. "Or a combination of both. Are you feeling better?"
"Not really," Alan answered truthfully.
"Come on, lean on me," said Virgil, helping him stand upright. Whilst Alan washed his face, Virgil disappeared back into the infirmary. Alan dried his face with a towel and sank down on the bathroom floor, content to sit for a while. After a few minutes, Virgil came in. Alan looked up but didn't move. He didn't feel like making an effort to do anything right now. Virgil knelt beside him and rubbed his back.
"Alan," Virgil started. He seemed unsure where to begin.
"I'm fine," Alan surprised himself with how nervous his voice sounded.
"Stop it, seriously," Virgil told him. "You're not fine. You're anything but fine, and the quicker you acknowledge that the quicker you can leave all of this behind you. You're making yourself physically sick, Sprout. Start talking to us."
His brother's monologue brought him to tears somehow. But it didn't make him eager to talk. Not to Virgil anyway.
"I'm just really tired," he said.
He knew that Virgil was disappointed. His brother gripped his hand in his. "I was there. Talk to me, Alan. I can help you."
"I just need some pain killers," Alan sighed.
"They won't make the pain go away," Virgil replied. "It just grows until you don't know what to do with yourself. You just want to collapse and shrivel up because you think there is nothing else you can do."
Virgil's accurate description of how he was feeling unnerved him enough to make him stand up. He didn't know what he was doing exactly, but he choked out something about wanting to go to sleep and stumbled out of the bathroom.
He trudged stiffly up to his bedroom and locked the door. How could he have been so weak? He'd kept up the pretence that he was strong for so many days now. And in one single moment, his cover had been blown.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Maybe we shouldn't leave him alone tonight," Scott suggested.
Jeff, Scott, Virgil, and John were sitting in Jeff's office. Even Gordon had been called to the family meeting, even though he could only sit in over the communications channel. Virgil had returned from the infirmary after finishing Alan's examination and had gathered them together. The news he had brought had revealed how serious things had become.
"I checked his room, and the door is locked," Virgil told his older brother.
On the computer screen, Gordon's brow creased into an uncharacteristic frown. "Why won't he talk to us? He knows we have been in this business longer than him. We've had more experience with this sort of thing."
"Have we?" asked John. All eyes were suddenly on him. "Think about it. None of us have been in his position before. We've always been the rescuers; professional and confident in what we do. None of us have been the victim."
"That's rubbish, John," Gordon snapped irritably. "What about my hydrofoil accident?"
"You weren't rescued by your family, Gordo. Alan's always looked up to us, and to have to be rescued by us would have been completely humiliating for him. Would you have wanted your idols to see you helpless and panicking?" John calmly explained. "What he went through, that feeling of loneliness and despair, not to mention the feeling of being physically suffocated, was probably nothing compared to the embarrassment of breaking down in front of us. He suddenly felt that being he was being rescued, he was no longer one of us. You have no idea how helpless he would have felt in that position."
After a solemn pause, Scott murmured. "But you do."
Sighing, John nodded. "The attack on Thunderbird Five and everything that happened up there does give me some idea what is happening right now," he agreed. "But I'm adult and Alan's just a kid. Of course he's going to react differently, and obviously its affecting him a lot more than it did me."
"So what do we do?" asked Gordon, impatiently.
"He's in a bad way," said Virgil, who had been nervously biting his fingernails throughout the whole conversation. "We can't let this heal itself. The kid needs help and he's not coming to any of us for it."
"Well for one thing, I'm not letting him go out on rescues like this," said Jeff, speaking for the first time. "I just hope that it won't make him believe that I'm punishing him for his condition."
"Dad, what if I bring Alan up with me to Thunderbird Five?" John offered. "It would give us some time alone to relax and talk."
"The guise of a training trip could help him with any feelings of exclusion," Scott nodded.
"But do you really think being stuck up in a space station in what he needs right now? He's feeling claustrophobic as it is," said Gordon. "I do know what that feels like."
"I think we should keep him down here where we can all keep an eye on him," Virgil agreed.
Scott shook his head. "I'm actually with John on this one. He's not willing to talk to any of us and on the island we can't always keep an eye on him. We can at least give this a try."
"But it'll be Christmas soon," Gordon argued. "Great way of showing family support, guys. We'll stick him up in a space station for the most wonderful time of the year!"
"Alright Gordon, that's enough," Jeff said, silencing Gordon's sarcastic jibes. "We're obviously not making any progress here, and I for one don't want to watch it get worse whilst we argue amongst ourselves. John will return to duty tomorrow morning, and Alan will go with him. Scott, launching of Thunderbird 3 will take place at 0800 hours tomorrow."
Gordon frowned. "What about Brains and Fermat? They were supposed to arrive the day after. Brains has been planning the trip for two weeks. Fermat comes home tomorrow and he'll be really disappointed when he finds out he's not coming up here," he pointed out.
Jeff sighed. "I'll talk to Brains and see if they can postpone their trip. I'm sure they won't mind when I explain what is going on," he said.
John smiled at his younger brother, attempting to lighten the situation. "So, squirt, are you ready to fall back to Earth?" he teased.
Gordon's frown lessened and the corners of his mouth twitched. "Don't even get me started, spaceman." Suddenly his frown reappeared. "But if you'll excuse the Star Wars quote, I have a bad feeling about this."