Disclaimer: The Thunderbirds do not belong to me. They are the property of Gerry Anderson and his affiliates. The original characters come from my imagination, and have appeared in some of my other works. I am pretty sure that my imagination belongs to me, unless it runs wild and becomes a law unto itself.
AN: So, I'm not too sure if there was a canonical way Brains was introduced to the Tracy family. If there was, please consider this an A/U story (to an extent – hopefully the characters are still in character). It there isn't, then this is my take on it.
Chapter Two
It was the world's worst barbeque, Virgil thought, as the smoke seeped into the interior of the car as they approached. His stomach flipped over again; he could have sworn he smelt meat cooking.
With the car parked a safe distance away, Scott and John both leapt out, ready to render assistance. Virgil wondered why; observing the two cars that had mangled together, coupled with the smell of freshly cooked flesh, there was little to no hope of finding survivors.
"I've got a live one!" John yelled, head appearing in and out of Virgil's sight as he tended to the injured. "Virgil, call the paramedics and get me the water bottles from the car!"
With Virgil on the phone to the authorities, John turned to the person he had found, pulling him as far away from the wreckage as he could. Once John felt that they were a safe distance away from a possible explosion – fire and leaking gas were never a good mix – he gently wrapped the man up in a blanket, just to keep him as warm as possible. Gut twisting, John spared a glance at the victim. Skin scorched from where his clothes had been incinerated. Laboured breathing, as the man struggled for each breath. With the skin burnt off the man's face, revealing sinewy muscle, blood coagulating in the crevices of the victim's facial structure, and the possibility of nerve damage, John knew that there was no way of accurately identifying the person.
Well, that wasn't quite true. Delving his hand into the unconscious man's pocket, John pulled out a wallet, leafing through it until he found an ID card.
The man he had just saved was known as Hiram Hackenbacker. At eighteen, they were both the same age, John realised. He briefly wondered how Hiram had ended up in this state.
From the ground, Hiram stirred. "B-b-urns," he stammered out quietly, too desensitised to the pain from his third degree burns to even scream in agony. Trying to determine the extent of the damage, Hiram's hand clawed at his face.
John nodded, tucking the arm back under the blanket. Hiram's eyes shot to the water bottle, but John shook his head. John may not have been qualified in first-aid, but he had been in and out of hospitals enough times to know that Hiram would need surgery, and that would mean he couldn't drink.
"It's okay, Hiram. It's gonna be okay." A small, reassuring smile. "My brother's called for help; the paramedics'll be here soon. Just hang on."
The fire had inched ever closer to them; John could feel the searing heat radiate on them, he could feel the thick, toxic fumes begin to suffocate them. Brotherly instinct for Scott kicked in. John could only hope his big brother hadn't done anything stupid, like getting himself hurt in the process of trying to save another person.
"Scott?"
But there was no answer from the nineteen and a half year old Tracy. Instead, the brunette had pulled off his jumper and placed it over his mouth and nose as a mask as he entered the burning shell of one of the vehicles.
Under normal circumstances, Scott would never have pulled such a stupid stunt, but this was anything, everything, but normal. A high pitched, keening sound, a shriek that could have woken the dead spurred him on, encouraging to have little to no regard for his own safety. As the elder brother to four little brothers, Scott recognised a baby's wail when he heard it.
With his thoughts preoccupied with the infant who was trapped in the car, Scott placed his hand on the metal handle, ready to wrench the door of its hinges so he could scoop up the baby and whisk them to safety.
He let out a string of curse words as he felt the skin pucker and blister from the burn he had just inflicted on himself. Inside, the baby screamed even louder, arms flailing wildly, dangerously close to flames that had so far managed to avoid her.
With no regard for his own wellbeing, Scott bit down hard on his tongue – literally biting back the string of curse words he was going to utter; it wouldn't do to swear in front of a baby – as he practically forced his way through the car door to get to the child. Biting back some more curse words as he struggled to free the baby from the car seat – the metal buckle was excruciatingly, painfully hot, but there was no other way to release the child apart from the capsule – Scott pulled the jumper away from his mouth and wrapped the little girl up to keep her warm.
A hacking cough as he accidentally breathed in the noxious fumes. The baby in his arms let out another ear splitting shriek, choking on the smoke as well.
"Okay, honey, I get the point," he reassured, rocking the baby. Scott noted that she was no more than five months old. "I'm getting you out of here. Then I'll go check on your Mommy and Daddy, okay?"
Scott slowly backed his way out of the car, coughing once again as the smoke snaked its way down his throat. "Virgil!"
The sixteen and a half year old scurried forward at the call, only slowing down once his mind registered the scene he was entering. Not even the worst horror movie Virgil had seen could compare to this. He swallowed the vomit that threatened to erupt from him. Squinting his eyes shut, Virgil approached Scott, who thrust the squirming bundle into his arms.
"Get to John," Scott instructed. "He's a safe distance away. Get him to look after the baby and then standby for the paramedics."
"What are you doing?"
"There are still two people trapped in the car."
Another cough from Scott, as he rubbed at his eyes, making them appear more bloodshot as they reacted to the fire and smoke.
"Scott, no!" Virgil grabbed Scott by the upper arm. "You've inhaled smoke, your eyes are shot to shit, you've given yourself burns! You'll injure yourself even more if you go back!"
"They could still be alive in there! Virg, the injuries I have pale in comparison to the suffering they're going through right now!" A sigh, and Scott moderated his voice. "Virg, you know I can't leave here until I know for sure. And to do that, I need to know that you and John are as safe as possible. Please?"
Careful consideration. Honey burnt eyes met with cobalt blue ones, unblinking, waging war with each other until one party understood and desisted.
"For God's sake, Scott, be careful!"
With that, Scott delved back into the burning wreckage.
John knelt by Hiram, baby tucked into the crook of his elbow, prattling on about nonsense, just to keep the invalid conscious. From the roadside, Virgil held up his hand; the emergency services were three minutes out. John heaved a sigh of relief; he wasn't sure he could do much more to increase Hiram's chances of survival.
"I was too late." Scott collapsed on the ground next to John, relieving John of the baby. Face twisted in an expression of sorrow and pain, although this may have been from the new burns he had acquired across his cheek, Scott held the fussing little girl closer to him. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."
A single, solitary tear tracked its way down Scott's cheek, and Scott flinched as it crossed over the burn. The baby seemed to have understood the meaning behind his words and immediately quietened down.
A sobering silence.
A time to consider those they had saved.
A moment for mourning the strangers that had been lost.
John could feel the pain radiating off from Scott. An act of fraternal support, John placed a hand on the elder man's shoulder, not surprised in the least when Scott didn't shrug it off. Neither did he mind when John poured some water over the burns on his face, hands and arms.
The guilt bubbled in the base of Scott's stomach, crawling its way up his body, skewering right through his heart. The little girl in his arms was going to grow up an orphan, and it was his fault. He just hadn't been able to get to her parents fast enough.
"I don't even know their names," Scott whispered, voice hoarse and scratchy. "It wasn't meant to end this way."
A quick glance up; John could see Virgil escorting the emergency services to them.
"You don't need to know who they are. Just know that you saved their daughter. And, yeah, maybe it wasn't meant to end this way, but maybe it was. Remember what Mom used to say?"
"Everything happens for a reason. You may not understand it, you may not like it, but have faith that everything happens for a reason," they chorused together.
"Everything happens for a reason," John repeated. "You did the best you could, Scott. No, you surpassed all the expectations anyone could have had of you, and don't tell yourself otherwise. You did more than your best."