Pulling Together

"Try not to cry Tintin." came a soft voice from behind her. "Alan's no quitter. He'll pull through, you'll see."

She looked round. Virgil had pulled the screen to one side and was peering round it, his eyes over bright and his head wreathed in bandages. She removed the screen altogether and sat by Virgil's bed.

"Virgil, you're awake!"

He was smiling softly at her.

"I remember watching Alan as a toddler trying to clamber over the rocks on the other side of the island. They always fascinated him, but he always fell. He fell and got hurt every single time, but he never gave up. He refused to give up. He just had to explore those rocks. The more he fell, the more determined he became not to be beaten."

"And he hasn't changed?"

"Not a bit. This has knocked him down for a bit, but all he needs is the chance to get back up again and he will."

"Scott and the others don't seem to share your optimism. Even Mr. Tracy seems to think..."

Virgil nodded.

"I know kid, me too. We can't help thinking how much will change if he dies, how much we will miss him and what will happen to the organization? But we know our kid brother. He's the baby of the family, we all watched him grow up. We know him well enough to know he's not about to give up without a fight. I guess we need a little faith."

Tintin smiled wanly. "Well I have faith in Alan."

She shook herself visibly and stood up.

"How are you feeling Virgil? Have you been awake for very long?"

"About half an hour. Dad was here. He says Scott has taken Gordon up to Thunderbird Five to relieve John for a bit until I'm back on my feet. How long will that be Tintin?"

"You have a simple fracture across the top of your skull, but no broken skin or tissue damage, a simple hairline fracture. You will be back on your feet in a day or two, but it will be too dangerous for you to go back on duty until it is completely healed, the same as any bone fracture. That will likely be in six to eight weeks."

That thought wiped the smile from Virgil's face. He looked worried himself now.

"That long?"

"It will stop hurting much sooner than that, but until its healed, the slightest stress or knock will make it a lot worse."

He lay down, his face a mixture of amusement and disgust.

"...might as well seal me up in a plastic bubble for a couple of months!" he muttered. "I'll go stir crazy sitting around base that long!"

Tintin nodded sympathetically, and gave an agonized look in Alan's direction.

"I know Virgil, but it could have been worse."

Tintin remained in the room, sitting mostly brooding over Alan's bed for some time, whilst Virgil brooded in his own. He was sidelined for six weeks or so now, but that was nothing compared to the pathetic sight in the next bed. Alan. His baby brother.

Alan, the baby of the family, the livewire, the mischievous toddler who had been found in the kitchen one day, covered from head to foot in flour because he was inquisitive. The baby who had upturned an entire bowl of pea soup over his head because he wanted the chips that he could see his brothers eating. The toddler who had broken into the sweet cupboard and made short work of several chocolate bars, and completely ruined and flattened a newly baked chocolate cake by sitting on it. He had been so thickly covered in chocolate, that the only part of him that could be seen were his blue eyes peering cheekily at them when he was discovered. The same Alan had, at Colorado College clashed with the authorities over his unsanctioned rocket experiments and very nearly burnt the building to the ground.

This same Alan who, despite his youth, was the exceptionally skilled pilot of Thunderbird Three, and as cool as a cucumber in a crisis. Alan's remarkable head for heights had always been a major boon, and any task involving precarious heights was assigned to Alan who could be trusted to be able to focus on his task without panicking or becoming dizzy.

Come to that, Virgil recalled at least two occasions when Alan could have been forgiven for losing that head for heights. Both times had involved cable cars. The first was when the cabling had snapped during a lightning storm, and Alan had had to go outside and dangle 600 feet in the air to attach the magnetic clamp from Thunderbird two to the top of the car. The wind had been so ferocious, that the clamp was constantly being blown off course. That had ended badly for Alan because Thunderbird two had been struck by lightning, burning out Alan's safety line, and the young man had fallen 600 feet, landing in deep snowdrifts.

The second occasion had not been dissimilar, except that Alan had first had to disarm a crazed gunman by talking him round before he could save any of the passengers. This occasion, Alan had apparently lost his memory of the entire incident, which was a pity. According to those he had saved, Alan had been a hero.

Virgil looked at that same Alan now, his face as white as the sheets that covered him, his breathing shallow and erratic, his heart-rate heart-stoppingly slow at times. And all this because of what? Some mad man with a gun? He had not even made any demands; he simply declared that he was going to shoot, and he had done so. It was fortunate that the man was such a poor shot. The only person he had seriously hurt was his rescuer, Alan Tracy.

Virgil stuffed his fists into his eyes. Why would he do that? Why would anyone shoot to kill someone who had just saved their life? He rolled over in bed and hid his face in the pillow, wishing he could get back to sleep. But now he was awake, sleep was not forthcoming. Each time he closed his eyes, he saw the flash of the gun, Alan falling, the man aiming his gun at him and shooting on an empty chamber, then picking up a large rock…and now he saw Alan's white, still form, tubes and wires all over the place keeping the young hero alive…the only words that came into his head, was `WHY? WHY? WHY!?'

Jeff Tracy listened patiently to John's description of the media confusion and speculation over what had happened, and nodded thoughtfully. He could see the reason for the boys' concerns, and they were quite right; but who to call? As he pondered the question, an incoming call alarm sounded throughout the room, and as they recognized the distinctive tone, the three men turned to see the picture of Lady Penelope flashing. In their concern and flurry, they had completely forgotten to let Penny know what had happened. She must be watching and listening to all the news with gathering fear and worry. Jeff leaned forward and pressed a button on his desk.

"Penny!"

"Jeff, what has happened? Is there any truth to the news reports? Why have I not heard anything from you? I've been worried sick!"

Lady Penelope's perpetually smiling demeanor was indeed looking very worried, and not a little upset at having been overlooked.

"I'm sorry Penny, we've been so overwrought and frantic here...I was about to call you. I've not heard the news reports, but John tells me..."

"They are saying that two members of International Rescue have been killed while trying to save lives and that as a result, the Organization has withdrawn its services."

"Penny, no one has been killed...Alan was shot and is in a bad way, but he's hanging in there..." Here Jeff has to pause and compose himself before he could carry on; "Virgil suffered a hairline skull fracture, but he'll be fine and back on duty in a few weeks. In the mean-time we simply have to work with fewer resources, that's all. We are certainly not about to withdraw our services. We do need to stop the endless speculation though. I was hoping you would be able to find a way to let the world know the truth, and also if we give you all the details of what happened, you can look into the men who attacked Alan and Virgil and see that they have been apprehended and that justice is served."

"With very great pleasure Jeff!" She declared with feeling, "Only...I want to come out to the island to see the boys? May I?"

"Glad to have you Penny." Jeff replied warmly.

When she rang off, Jeff looked round at Scott and John. If he needed an extra person on a rescue, he would be in difficulties. He could send Tintin as an operator possibly? She was quite able. Brains too was able, but he fared better at base where he could use his amazing brainpower to the best advantage. He put the thoughts out of his head. Face problems when they arose and not before. They might not even be needed on any kind of rescue anyway. There were plenty of what-ifs that could get in the way if he allowed himself to dwell on them. Better just get on with the job at hand and not worry about something that might never happen.

Lady Penelope arrived at Tracy Island and sat talking softly with Virgil, full of comfort and optimism. When Virgil fell asleep, lulled mostly by the strong painkillers he was taking, she moved across to sit beside young Alan.

Alan…poor young Alan. So full of enthusiasm and energy for everything around him, not averse to joining Gordon in playing harmless pranks on the others, full of laughter and games; and yet completely professional when it came to his duties, whether operating Thunderbird Three, or taking his watch on board the space station. She took Alan's hand in her own and softly stroked it, her dainty hand clutching her lace handkerchief. Virgil awakened silently and turned his head on the pillow. Lady P was sitting close beside Alan, holding the kid's hand and sniffing quietly. Then he heard her speaking, almost under her breath. He had to hold his breath to catch her words.

"Though I walk in the valley of deep shadow I fear no harm, for you are with me. Your rod and your staff reassure me. You prepare a table for me before my enemies. You refresh my head with oil, my cup is well-filled. Surely goodness and loyal love will pursue me all the days of my life…"

She stopped speaking and wiped something from her eye and stood up.

"Amen. Come back to us, little Alan." She whispered, and crept from the room. Virgil stared at the door long after she had gone, a huge lump in his throat.

That week or passed in something of a blur for the Tracy family. Lady Penelope's visit had given Jeff Tracy the opportunity to draft an official letter from International Rescue to be passed on to the media and the official authorities, and placed it in Penelope's capable hands. She had been swift in passing it on to the authorities who made it an official press release stating in part;

"...Two members of International Rescue had been attacked and injured, one seriously; but no one had died and International Rescue will continue to provide assistance to those in need to the very best of their abilities..."

Although the press themselves had found the information scanty and unsatisfactory, it did at least serve to stifle the worst rumours and gave the Tracy family a little room to breathe as it were. But not much. They continued to receive calls for help, and Scott and John in particular spent a very busy week. They saved a family from a bush-fire in the Australian outback, rescued an entire work-shift of fifteen men from a mineshaft after a cave-in and rescued a submarine crew from their crippled craft after an undersea collision following a power-blackout. Scott and John did well on their own for the first two missions, but Jeff found he had to go along to man Thunderbird two during the undersea mission because two men were needed to free the marine crew. Brains and Tintin manned the talk-back whilst their boss was gone, with Virgil ensconced on an easy chair nearby to offer counsel if needed. Considering everything, things had gone pretty well, although stretched.

The two eldest of the brothers would have liked nothing more than to remain at home throughout that week, comforting Virgil and sitting vigil beside Alan. Feeling helpless and unable to do a thing to help their little brother in his private battle for life, they found that being called out to help others in their hour of need kept them from becoming too embroiled in their own sorrows. It also served as a reminder of just what Alan was back home fighting for. He was totally dedicated to International Rescue's stated goal and aims. They were painfully aware that if Alan did wake up and find that everyone had been sat around all day worrying about him rather than saving lives, he would be totally shocked, and also disappointed.

Needless to say though, each time they returned home from a rescue, they found their feet taking them to the sickroom in the vain hope that some miracle might have occurred during their absence. Each time they found their baby brother laying still, unchanged, frighteningly pale and unmoving, the beeping and hissing of the life support machines somehow less than reassuring.

Jeff knew Virgil was feeling badly about things. Virgil was aware that nothing that had occurred was his fault, or Alan's, but he couldn't help seeing the difficulties his father and brothers were facing, and felt helpless. Knowing that his long-term fitness depended on recovering quickly, and not re-injuring himself by trying to do too much too soon, he was determined to sit back and obey orders...but it was hard. He was restrained from spending too much time in the sickroom because of the deep sorrow that lodged in his heart and showed on his face. Everyone was afraid the stress would slow his recovery, but the pain of no longer being able to even visit Alan's bedside without leave was excruciating. Being unable to do anything to help John or Scott was masking Virgil feel even more helpless. Concerned for his middle son, Jeff determined to talk to him, try and help somehow.

He knocked at Virgil's bedroom door and waited for his son to respond. He found him pouring over various manuals and schematic diagrams of the various Thunderbird machines and smiled to himself.

"How are you making out, son?"

"Okay. How's Alan?"

Jeff's face clouded.

"No change."

"Still on life support?"

His father nodded. Virgil rubbed his face with his hands.

"How long dad? What if he never comes out of it? Will we keep him on life support forever?"

"Brain activity is still strong, Virgil. Our Alan is still in there. It's his body that is in trouble, not his brain or his willpower. He'll get stronger, he just needs time."

"That's what I told Tintin five days ago." Virgil replied with a sigh. "But..."

Jeff nodded.

"See, this is the real trouble we all have. Coping with rescues with two of you out of action is a challenge, but not one we haven't faced before. We're all scared witless about losing Alan. It's starting to make us lose our focus. Without one hundred percent focus on what we are doing, we could fail. But Virgil, the fact is, death is part of life. We all faced it when your mother... when your mother died. I won't last forever. Sooner or later you will all have to face it when I die. So how do we deal with this? We can't all sit around Alan's bedside waiting for him to wake up, however much I want to. We have work to do."

"Well I'm not being much help sitting around here doing nothing dad. If I am to stay here all the time, the least I can do is spend my time sitting with him. I keep getting chased away for my own good, but I'll be fine. He's more likely to come out of a coma if there is someone in the room with him all the time talking to him, don't you think? Grandma goes in a lot, and you and the others come in to see him when you are free...but you haven't let me...and right now I could be with him all the time."

"Well Tintin has been..."

"She could be more help to International Rescue right now than I can be, so use her as an extra on Thunderbird Two when you need someone. She is spending all day every day crying. She needs to be kept busy...something extra to think about. Look dad."

Virgil handed his father the papers he had been studying.

"This is the kind of thing she needs to be familiar with, but she is already familiar with the principles. Give her these to study and give her two days to learn it. She'll jump at the chance of having something else beside her worry about Alan to think about."

Jeff nodded thoughtfully. Virgil was right after all. Tintin was already very familiar with the systems and technology in all the Thunderbirds. She was Brains' primary assistant when it came to repairing or updating them. He looked Virgil in the eye.

"We've been trying to keep you away from Alan as much as possible because you will recover more quickly if you are not submitted to too much stress or worry."

"Dad, my baby brother is fighting for his life, and I'm not even allowed to go in and sit with him. Can you imagine anything more stressful than this right now?"

Jeff shook his head. He ached to be sitting with Alan himself, even though he knew he had important work that needed doing. With Virgil sat around, he must be going crazy right now.

"Go ahead Virgil. You're right. Keep your brother up to date with everything that goes on here. Hearing a human voice might help to bring him out of it."

There were no rescues that night, and one by one the family and servants all found their feet taking them to the sickbay, to sit quiet vigil beside the silent Alan. Grandma looked round at the family. She knew better than anyone what everyone was feeling. She had been through similar things herself several times in the past, and not always with a happy outcome. Sitting around looking tragic was not helping anyone.

"Come on!" She declared, raising her voice above the common whisper and making everyone look up at once. "Why is everyone looking so gloomy? What on earth would Alan say if he saw all of you moping like this? Surely you have some funny stories to tell that would cheer everyone up a little? Things Alan has done or someone else? I can tell you one or two funny stories about your father if you like, to start the ball rolling. And why don't we get Gordon on the screen in here? Let him listen in too. He'll be feeling out of things all alone up in that satellite!"

So with Gordon listening in on the comm-link, grandma began a long and hilarious story about one of Jeff's youthful misadventures that helped to thaw the ice a little. That made Scott grin.

"You know dad, that reminds me of the time when Virgil was little, and we got home from camp one day..."

It was Virgil's turn to blush, but he quickly recovered with a reminder of the time Scott had been severely punished for some piece of mischief that had resulted in almost burning the house down.

Everyone had stories to tell of Alan's misadventures. Alan had been a very intelligent and inquisitive child, never content with sitting still and seemingly incapable of keeping out of trouble for long, he had had countless punishments as a mischievous child and a restless teenager from his father; scoldings, groundings and many other even more imaginative punishments on several occasions. He had been one constant guarantee to his brothers that living life on a private island in the south pacific need never be dull. They had grown up being endlessly entertained by his antics.

Alan had grown and matured though, into a thoughtful and very caring young man, passionately devoted to his role within International Rescue. He was still somewhat mischievous, but he had proven that he always knew where and when to draw the line. His father still tended to see him as the wayward youth he had once been, however, and was sometimes apt to be a little harder on him than on the others.

Scott and the others, working closely with Alan as they did on rescues, had learned through experience that when life and death situations came around, at times when you needed to be able to depend on your colleagues for your very life, Alan was as solid and reliable as a rock. As the youngest he was constantly teased by his brothers, but Scott, John, Virgil and Gordon thought the world of their baby brother, and couldn't imagine life without him. Even through the chuckles and laughter that their stories brought forth, ever at the back of their minds was the fear of losing him.

One by one they retired to bed that night, Virgil volunteering to take night watch in the sick room.

He kept the low night-lighting on only, and stood chewing his knuckles as he watched the read-outs on his brother's monitors. There were some heart-freezing pauses in his breathing, his heart-rate was agonizingly slow and irregular. Alan's face was white, topped with his blond hair, he almost looked like a ghost already.

"Stop that!" he told himself crossly. "Alan 'll be fine. I know he will!"

He crossed to the window and looked out across the rocks that marked the rear of the house, and the thin strip of sea and sky he could see at one side. The stars were bright and twinkling against the blackness. Suddenly the slow irregular beeping stopped. Virgil whipped his head around. Alan looked the same as ever. He hurried to the monitor, and he saw an almost straight line.

"Oh my god, he's gone into shock! We're gonna lose him if we don't act fast!"

He pressed the alarm button on the desk and with the other hand, flicked a red switch on the medical console. Three seconds later, as the medical unit sent a jolt of electricity into Alan's chest, Alan's body jerked on the bed. The beeping resumed, faltered and stopped again, then became a steady tone. Virgil heard the door crashing open behind him but paid no heed as he flicked the red switch again. Once again the body jerked violently, but the steady tone did not alter. Hot tears pricked the back of his eyes as he glanced to the oxygen machine. Breathing was barely registering. He snapped out a command tersely.

"Pump the airbag manually, get some air into his lungs!"

Someone stepped forward and began to squeeze the airbag rapidly and surely, whilst Virgil grabbed his brother's shoulders and gave him a violent shake.

"Come on boy! You've gotta fight this! Don't give up! We need you. Please Alan, fight!"

He flicked the red switch and again the body jerked on the bed. The steady tone of the heart monitor broke up and became a slow but steady beeping. The straight line indicated a heart beating feebly but considerably more regular than before. Virgil heaved a shaky sigh, and felt the hot tears slide down his cheeks, this time in relief. That had been an incredibly close shave. He turned and found Scott standing beside him. It had been Scott who had reached the sickroom first at the sound of the alarm siren and had been pumping the airbag for Alan. Beyond Scott, Virgil could make out his father and John, Brains, grandma and Tintin all looking slightly blurred somehow.

"Oops!" Gasped Scott, catching his brother in his arms as Virgil collapsed in a faint. "Come on Virg, you're not ready for all this yet."

To be continued….