Sorry guys, this was supposed to be up last weekend, but I messed up on dates. Long story short, I was stuck with no internet on a camping expedition (Duke of Edinburgh to all of my English readers). Still, I'm making it up to you (hopefully) by giving you an extra long chapter.

Also, sorry D C JoKeR H S - more angst headed your way in this chapter ;) Really, thank you to all of you who've reviewed so far, I really appreciate it.

Warnings - near drowning experience, several f-bombs

Thunderbird 4

Going on rescues with Gordon was always a fun experience; depending on your definition of the word fun. Alan didn't find himself on jobs that required his water-loving brother's expertise very often, and when he did it was usually in the company of Virgil (minus the occasional space rescue which called for a certain deep-sea submersible). Their middle brother's presence usually prevented any squabbling on the flights to-and-from the danger zone, and when they were in the throes of a rescue, professionalism came first over any sibling rivalry.

Alan personally wondered how Virgil was still mentally sane given he had Gordon as a co-pilot. Not that the youngest Tracy didn't get along well with his brother (they were the Terrible Two, of course they got along), but there were only so many episodes of Into the Unknown that he could tolerate in one sitting. Also, the wrappers. No one liked ration bars, no one, apart from, apparently, Gordon. Alan swore that it was his brother's personal goal to fill up either his own Thunderbird or '3's cockpit with the wrappers within a single rescue (and given the time it had taken for the last Moon Oberon rescue, he had come very close).

Still, as the second youngest, (and also given Alan had been the only one still in school out of the family when the hydrofoil accident had occurred), Gordon had spent most of his time around Alan throughout their childhood, with Virgil gravitating towards the elder of their siblings, which had resulted in the two having a close bond which manifested itself in friendly banter and pranks. Gordon didn't exactly do deep talks; that was more John's forte (although the aquanaut had been known to have his moments).

Given all of this, it was no surprise to John when he called to find Alan sprawled across the carpet, with Gordon pinning him down, a pillow raised above his head in preparation to strike. Alan's own pillow lay just out of reach and instead he was investing all of his strength into trying to free himself (he was failing miserably – Gordon may not have his older brothers' height, but he had the upper body strength of an Olympic swimmer). Virgil was sat on the opposite sofa, a book in his hands, ignoring the commotion that was rolling towards his feet (Alan had remembered his brother was ticklish and was steadily gaining the upper-hand).

John's hologram form hovered above the table unnoticed for a good minute before he gave a meaningful cough. "International Rescue, we have a situation."

With his arms pinned to the floor either side of him, Gordon let out a breathless gasp between hysterical laughter. "Yeah, no kidding."

Alan full on sniggered, ruffled blond hair falling into his eyes as he leaned forwards. With a frantic yelp, Gordon twisted in a movement that Kayo would have been proud of, pressing himself face-down into the carpet in an attempt to hide his most ticklish spot.

"What's the situation?"

"Alan's gonna kill me is the situation!" Gordon hollered from the floor, breaking into laughter as Alan managed to dig his fingers through the carpet to reach his ribs. "Virgil, help!"

Virgil ignored them. "John?"

"An Ocean Liner, the Albatross, was on a cruise across the Atlantic, en-route to South Africa, when they ran into bad weather. The captain thought they could make it through, but a rogue wave caused the ship to list to one side, at which point one of the containers in the cargo section managed to get loose and tore a hole in the starboard side of the ship. They're still stuck in the midst of the storm, and they're taking on water – fast."

"How many people?" Virgil lifted his feet onto the sofa to avoid being hit by Gordon's flailing arms.

"The majority have already been evacuated, but some are still trapped on the lower levels. I'll explain more once you're in the air, but there are twelve still on board, including the captain."

"Right. See you in the skies."

"FAB." John's hologram vanished, and Virgil turned his attention to the pair still wrestling on the floor. Gordon had reached his pillow and now had the advantage, leaving Alan to change tactics.

"Guys cut it out. We've got people to save." Already striding across to the rocket painting on the wall, Virgil didn't wait for a reply. "Alan, you too."

With a final smack of the pillow to his brother's shoulder, Gordon headed for the lift down to the hanger (he still maintained it wasn't fair how the others got awesome rides down to their ships, whereas he was stuck with an admittedly very fast lift – on the other hand, he hated rollercoasters, so he wasn't complaining too much). Alan instinctively made for the couch which would take him to '3's hanger before realising and changing direction, breaking into a jog to catch up with Gordon.

Virgil was already running Thunderbird 2 through her pre-flight checks when they entered the giant aircraft. Gordon dived into his chair with well-practised ease, Alan sidling across to his own with significantly less speed. John's hologram was already projected above the controls, waiting patiently for them to take off before beginning his explanation.

Alan slid down in his chair, crossing one ankle over the other. Despite the sea-storm they would be flying into, this sounded like it was going to be a relatively simple rescue and he began mentally jotting down ideas of how to beat Gordon in the (to be resumed) pillow fight. Virgil gradually eased '2 out of her hanger, and bright light flooded into the cockpit. In the co-pilot's seat, Gordon made a disgruntled comment and Virgil lightly shoved his shoulder, the grin playing at his features evidence that this was a familiar routine.

With a soft whine from her engines, Thunderbird 2 glided into the air, warm sun rays reflecting off her green hull to cast a golden glow across the cockpit. Alan closed his eyes, revelling in the familiar and still awe-inspiring feeling (Thunderbird 3 was his favourite, but he wasn't about to deny that '2 was awesome). In front of him, Gordon shuffled in his seat, whispering in mock-astonishment; "Thunderbirds are go."

Virgil regarded him with a raised brow. "Really? Every time?"

"Yup." Gordon made to lift his legs onto the dashboard in front of him, earning himself a slap to the ankle as a response. Grumbling, he lifted them down, shooting Alan a mischievous look over his shoulder.

"Alright, Thunderbird Five, go ahead." Virgil adjusted the power to '2's engines and sat back expectantly. There was a light speckling of green paint behind his ear (he had a habit of resting paint brushes there when working on a new piece) and Alan debated whether or not to tell him.

"I've been in contact with the Albatross' captain. She says that there are three people trapped on the bottom deck, with another six on Deck Three. The rest are trapped in their cabins. When the ship started flooding, the emergency systems started up, but they've malfunctioned so the water-tight doors have shut, trapping anyone who hadn't already reached the escape pods and rafts. Those who were evacuated have been taken by the GDF and the Air Search and Rescue teams to the main land but with the deteriorating weather conditions their crafts can't stay out there any longer. It's down to you to get the passengers and captain out before the ship sinks completely."

"FAB. Gordon, you take Thunderbird 4 and try to buy us some time by blocking off the main leaks. Alan, you're with me. We're going to have to cut through those doors. John, can you remote pilot Thunderbird 2 if I attach grapples to the Albatross to help keep her above water?"

"Sure."

"Alright. Gordon?"

"On it." Gordon slid back his seat, heading to the Pod without hesitation. Alan crossed over to take his seat, much to Virgil's amusement. For the next three minutes they fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by John's occasional updates. From the clear skies they were flying through, it was hard to see how there could be any bad weather on the horizon until Virgil began to guide '2 into a descent. The sudden turbulence that hit them was so violent that an alarm chimed through the cockpit. Pressed to his seat by the opposing forces, Alan caught a glimpse of the storm that was causing all the problems.

Made up of a large bulk of ominous dark clouds, the deep mass sparked with forked lightning. It spread across the sky, reaching up above the approaching Thunderbird, and stretched across to either side. Deep rumbles echoed up from where the lightning was hitting the sea below. Another jolt of turbulence had the safety harness cutting into his chest uncomfortably, and Alan couldn't hold back his uneasy tapping against the seat.

Gordon's hologram flickered into life. "Virg, we've talked about this. You know I hate rollercoasters." The pinched look to his expression revealed that despite his joking tone, he was actually unsure about the situation.

Virgil didn't reply. Alan glanced across to catch sight of his brother's white-knuckled grip on the controls and winced. "This is gonna get worse before it gets better, isn't it?"

Virgil didn't look at him. "That's one way of putting it," he answered presently, shoulders hunched with tension. "Right, Gordon, sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Came the somewhat hysterical response, before suddenly the Thunderbird appeared to be falling from the skies. Clouds swept passed the windows in a whirlwind and Alan dug his fingernails into the sides of his seat, unable to catch his breath as familiar sensation of weightlessness overtook him. Next to him, Virgil slammed forwards on the VTOL controls, and the Thunderbird came to a stop, hovering above the ocean, gravity crashing back down on them with a shock.

"Pod door's open."

"Thunderbird Four is go for launch." There was silence for a moment and Alan caught sight of a recognisable yellow shape slipping into the churning waters below. "For the record, I'm disowning you for that."

"Virgil, I don't know what you did but you've avoided the worst of the turbulence." John interjected.

Gordon grinned. "Welcome back to the family."

Rolling his shoulders, Virgil didn't respond for a moment, focusing on locating the Albatross with '2's scanners. The holograms projected above the controls flashed green as the grapples locked onto the battered metal hull below, before the cables connected, tugging the large ship further out of the water. Thunderbird 2's engines whined in protest at the action as Virgil increased the power to the VTOLs.

"John?"

"I have control of Thunderbird Two," the space monitor replied without needing to ask. Alan didn't react; after years of his brothers' creepy seemingly telepathic exchanges, he'd grown used to it. Instead he reached for his helmet, heading for the Pod, Virgil at his heels.

"Ready?"

Alan knocked his helmet with a grin. "When am I not?"

Virgil chuckled. "Fair point." He tapped the screen of his watch. "Open the pod, would you?" The howling of the wind buffeted through the opening door, and Alan was glad for the safety line which prevented him being blown backwards. Virgil disappeared, throwing himself off the overhang with well-practised ease, whereas Alan was more hesitant. Jumping out of Thunderbird 3 was fun and games, due to the lack of gravity, but flinging himself through a storm onto a sinking cruise liner was another story.

He took a deep breath, feeling the onset of the usual adrenaline rush, before rocking forwards on his toes to fall from the platform. For a few seconds, he was free-falling, and then the winds hit him. The rope slashed across his chest sending his trajectory too far left and he twisted in the air, landing on all fours like a cat. Scrambling onto his feet, he kept low to the deck as the driving rain and gale attempted to drag him into the stormy seas to either side.

His watch lit up with a scan of the ship, the nearest entrance highlighted in the red glow of his uniform sash. Following the makeshift map, he made quick work of the fire-exit door, ducking out of the rain in relief. The International Rescue symbol on his sash illuminated with an incoming call.

"I've found the captain. She's shaken up, but unharmed, but with the debris blocking the doorway it's going to take me a while." Virgil's voice seemed unconcerned, but there was an underlying tension to his voice as the pitch of '2's engines increased in the background.

"Working on plugging some of the holes right now." Gordon chimed in, running a hand through his ruffled hair. The currents were particularly strong, not helped by the storm above and the forces created by the Albatross' struggling engines. "How's the rest of the evacuation going?"

With his back pressed to the wall, Alan made his way down the steps gingerly. Sea water which had flooded in from over the sides of the deck above and the driving rain had caused the staircase to become slippery and it seemed as though his feet were about fly out from under him at any second. When Virgil didn't reply, he took the initiative. "Heading down to the lower decks now."

"I've got the captain." Virgil announced suddenly. "She's refusing to leave until all the passengers are safe." There was a hint of exasperation in his voice and Alan fought back a laugh. Gordon had no such qualms, a loud snigger sounding over the radio. Ignoring them both, Alan turned, jogging down the corridor until he reached the next set of steps. As he reached the final flight of stairs, the lights flickered ominously before giving up entirely, plunging the stairwell and the rest of the ship into darkness.

Alan held a hand up in front of his face. Other than the glow of his sash, where the comms link was still open, he couldn't see a thing. "Uh, guys?"

"Engines have cut out." John explained after a brief moment of silence. "Without the engines, the Albatross is losing all power, which also means it's sinking faster."

"It's always bad news with you, Johnny, isn't it?" Gordon sighed, observing the floundering ship in the murky waters in front of him.

"Without those engines, Thunderbird 2 is the only thing standing between the Albatross and the ocean. Taking into account the strain placed on the VTOLs by the storm as well, we'll burn out our engines before we can get everyone off."

Alan froze, one foot hovering above where he estimated the next step should be. "So, we're going to sink?"

"Unless we can get those engines back up and running?" Virgil snapped one of his glowsticks, illuminating the cabin in front of him. "Yes. John, you got anything?"

"You want the good news or the bad news?"

"See?" Gordon whined. "It's always bad news."

John didn't say a word, but Alan could imagine the unimpressed stare that was directed towards Gordon's hologram. He didn't look down to check, too focused on the task of reaching the lower deck.

"There is a way to restart the engines. The bad news is that it's in the control room which is at the opposite end of the ship to the trapped passengers."

"And we don't have time to reach both," Virgil finished.

Alan made for the next step, only for his feet to slip out from under him, sending him hurtling into the corridor below. Bracing himself for the impact, instead he found himself plummeting into freezing water that lapped at his waist. Even through the filter on his helmet, he could taste salt on his lips. Sea water sloshed against the sides of the passageway and with a frustrated growl, Alan slapped at his watch. His damp gloves left water droplets scattered across the cold surface but after a second the glaring beam of the inbuilt flashlight reflected about the corridor.

"Alan?" Virgil's voice, thick with concern, met his ears as he struggled through the water. Despite Gordon's best efforts, seawater was still sluggishly pouring through the collapsing panels along the side of the Albatross. It was getting harder to walk through with every minute and he felt a rush of fear for the state of the trapped passengers below.

"I'm okay. The water's a lot higher than I was expecting though."

"Thunderbird Two's engines are really struggling to hold us above the water," Virgil admitted.

"Okay, so I'll sort it. John, send the coordinates to my watch and I'll swim from Four. There's a panel at the back which I can't get close enough to secure; that's my entrance."

"Gordon."

"Virg, it'll be fine. It's me."

There was a low chuckle. "That's why I'm worried."

"You worry too much."

With a nervous glance down at his watch, Alan left his brothers to it and set his sights on the door jammed at the end of the hallway. He had to trust Gordon to do his job. But as he started work with his laser-cutter, he couldn't banish the nagging sensation at the back of his mind that something was wrong.

Gordon was more at ease in the water than he was on land. While he'd been nervous about swimming again following his hydrofoil accident (drowning did that to a guy), he respected the sea and in return Neptune hadn't let him down yet. Still, ducking the twisted pieces of metal that gave way under the pressure and were flung towards him, he was beginning to suspect this mission was going to be a lot harder than first expected.

The Albatross was one of the newer designs of ocean liners, but the fatal flaw that remained was the sheer size of the ship. Even propelled through the waters by the specially designed exo-suit, it took Gordon a good four minutes to reach the central back panel. A quick check with the holograms projected from his watch confirmed that he was at the right location. Lightly pressing one hand to the panel to keep himself in place (the currents were causing havoc), he began cutting through. Water around the laser hissed angrily at the sudden influx of heat, but the red beam steadily sliced through the metal like a knife through butter. Swimming back a stroke or two, Gordon launched himself through the dark water at the panel, gaining enough momentum to send both himself and the panel crashing through the newly made gap.

"John? Can you read me?"

"FAB, Four."

"I'm in. You got a map for me?"

"Obviously." No sooner had John spoke did the scan of the ship appear in place of the previous hologram. Gordon kicked off from one foot pressed to the floor, gliding through the water. The route to the control room was glowing a soft amber as opposed to the rest of the blue hologram and it took mere minutes for him to reach it. A foreboding shudder ran through the ship, the metal of the door trembling under his fingertips. Fighting the urge to look over his shoulder as something sent a new shockwave flooding through the water he was floating in, Gordon pushed at the door. Despite shifting a fraction to the left, it remained steadfast.

"Gordon, not to hurry you or anything…"

"Yeah, yeah, Virg." He glared at the door, frustration rushing through him. "I'm working on it." Pushing himself off of the far wall, he rammed his shoulder into the obstinate metal in front of him. Instantly, pain ignited in his upper arm, but the door finally gave way, colliding with the wall inside the room, sending a dull thud through the water. Diving down, Gordon swam through the doorway, twisting to survey the flooded corridor behind him.

The room in front of him was only partially flooded; mainly due to the fact it was taller, with the ceiling reaching up to what he guessed was easily two decks higher. A mass of controls and wires stood tangled across the far wall and he grimaced.

"Yeesh. This is worse than Alan's room."

"You're one to talk," John commented, frowning at the scans of the control room that appeared in front of him.

"Hey! My room's not that bad."

"You're right. It's terrible."

Gordon laughed, wading through the water to reach the controls. Schooling his expression back into that of a professional, he reminded himself of the rescue at hand. "Uh, Brains?" One of the wires sparked. "A little help here?"

"Certainly." Brains' hologram blinked into being, pushing the rim of his blue glasses higher up his nose, shoulders tensing in concentration. "You're going to have to be c-careful not to move the wrong g-green wire. There are two."

"Right. And if I move the wrong one?"

"You'll be el-electrocuted."

Gordon raised a brow at the hologram. Brains had a surprisingly dark sense of humour and was as good as John at deadpanning things. This was one of the many times where Gordon couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. Knowing Brains, he thought to himself, he probably was being serious. Either way, given he was chest deep in freezing sea water, he wasn't going to risk it.

Another tremor ran through the ship. Water splashed against the far wall, sending ripples across the surface. The wires sparked again. Gordon narrowed his eyes in determination, diving forwards to cut through the water in a single movement, resurfacing directly in front of the main panel. "I'm in position. Tell me what to do, Brains."

As the resident genius on Tracy Island talked the aquanaut through the process, John turned his concentration back to the readouts from Thunderbird 2 which were rapidly increasing in number. EOS' lights were dimmed in concentration, but the amber glow about the holograms promised nothing good.

"What've we got?"

"With the current strength of the storm, the fuel cells will burn themselves out before everyone can be evacuated."

"Great." With sarcasm still evident in his voice, John tapped on Virgil's radio link. "Two, we have a problem."

Virgil, now accompanied by the group of passengers who previously had been trapped, appeared on his screen. With his helmet secured on the head of a young twenty-something man (the passenger in question suffered from asthma, and with no inhalers in sight Virgil had settled for giving him the clean supply of oxygen provided by the helmet), the middle Tracy looked somewhat like a drowned rat, with a graze along his chin and drenched hair plastered to his forehead.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't keep Thunderbird Two in position. She can't hold the Albatross above water and remain steady in this weather at the same time."

Conscious of the people behind him, Virgil settled for a long sigh instead of the curse that came to mind. "Alan?" He tapped the comms link on his sash, lighting up another glow stick in the other hand. "I'm going to take these people in Two to the mainland and come back for you. How quickly can you reach the top deck with your passengers?"

Alan frowned. "Five minutes, tops. We're already on our way up. Can you hold fire on lift off?"

"FAB. That leaves one unaccounted for."

"I've located him with the thermal scanners," John interjected. "Sending you the coordinates now."

"We still have the issue of how fast we're sinking." Virgil lowered his voice as the passengers behind him exchanged concerned glances. "Without those engines and Thunderbird Two, we have no chance of getting that final passenger out."

"I'm almost finished with the engines." Gordon reported. Brains' voice appeared across the radio link, as if on cue.

"You will s-still need someone on the bridge to restart the engines once Gordon has c-configured them."

Virgil all but growled. "Can't John do that remotely?" He cast an anxious look across the open deck to where Thunderbird 2's engines increased in pitch.

"Negative. It has to be someone on board the ship."

Alan appeared at the end of the corridor, several bedraggled passengers at his heels. "You take these guys, I'll head up to the bridge. Then you can head back, pick up the final passenger and me, while Gordon makes his way back to Four. Easy."

Virgil let out a rushed breath. "Alright." He clapped a hand to his younger brother's shoulder, shooting him a warm smile, before beckoning to the group of terrified people behind them. "Alright, guys, let's get out of here."

Gordon was only partially listening in to the conversation between his brothers, but he felt the ship suddenly plummet deeper. Water rushed up, spilling over his shoulders, crackling at the exposed wiring and paint-slicked controls which his fingers slipped over.

"And you've done it. You can p-pull the leaver now, Gordon."

"Here's hoping this works. Alan, you ready?"

"FAB."

With a grin, Gordon slammed his hand down on the leaver. It was stiff with age, and from where the metal was already reacting with the hostile salt water submerging it. With a low rumble, in time with Alan's actions in the wheel room above, the engines started with a deafening roar that shook the entire ship. Taken by surprise, Gordon was swept to the far wall, pinned in place by the sudden current. With the new found power, the Albatross (which had previously been listing to the side), lurched upright and backwards, dipping the stern further under water. As a result, the already weakened structure of the back-end of the ship gave way under the new pressure.

Eyes widening in horror, Gordon realised what was about to happen, and made a frantic leap for the door. Debris came hurtling down, catching at his legs, spinning him upside down. Something crashed into his helmet and Gordon flung his arms out, kicking frantically, sucking in a panicked gulp of air as water rushed in through the shattered side of his helmet, flooding over his nose and mouth. Everything went dark, and all he could feel was the freezing water, hungry and dangerous, tossing and turning. Something was pinning his legs down, and with a furious kick he managed to pull himself free, struggling through the water before giving into his instincts, finally reaching the surface where he choked in air. The gap between the water and the ceiling was rapidly closing and pressing one hand to the panels above, Gordon struggled not to panic.

"Alan!"

"Yeah?" Noting the frantic tone to his brother's voice, Alan gave him his full attention. "Gordo? What's wrong?"

Gordon caught sight of the blocked exit and tore his broken helmet free, letting it splash into the dark waters around him. It bobbed up again, the yellow paintwork a stark contrast to the choking depths of the water.

"Gordon?"

"I'm stuck."

Alan choked on his inhale. "W-what?"

"The deck above gave way and I'm trapped in the control room."

"Laser?"

"Used up the final cell getting in here."

Alan let out a shuddering breath. "Okay." There was a beat of silence that in reality was only a few seconds long but seemed like hours to Gordon. "We'll think of something."

Gordon didn't reply, instead mentally going through his training. Floating took up less energy than treading water, but with the churning water flooding the ship threatening to drag him under the surface at any given moment, he had no choice. On the plus side, he thought somewhat hysterically, he wasn't about to imminently die of hypothermia; the in-built heater in his suit sent heat rushing over his shoulders and down his back, although he was losing the feeling in the tips of his fingers where his gloves ended at the knuckles to allow better control of Thunderbird 4 (he loved '4, don't get him wrong, but when they were on northern rescues and Virgil had full length gloves as opposed to his own, he sometimes wished the sub wasn't so responsive). His soaking hair sent rivulets of water trickling down his neck, gathering in a pool at the top of his diving-suit.

"John?" Alan's voice echoed through the radio in his sash. "Tell me you've got an idea."

"Virgil's still seven minutes out."

Right. Seven minutes. Gordon surveyed the gap between the floodwater and the ceiling and fought back the shiver that ran down his spine. Stupid cruise liners in the middle of the ocean. Why couldn't it have been a river cruise? Seven minutes was too long.

"I haven't got enough air."

Alan, who'd been going on about how 'seven minutes is nothing, you'll be fine', fell silent. "Shit."

Gordon let out a strangled laugh. Bringing his hands up to his face to scrape his hair out of his eyes, he flinched at how cold his fingers felt. It just had to be the Atlantic, didn't it? "Alan, where are you?" His voice sounded different, disembodied almost. He licked his lips, and hunched his shoulders, wishing he could turn up the heater.

"On my way to your location."

"Decks are flooding too quick." He kicked out, grabbing at the slippery ceiling panels above him. His fingers slid off helplessly, sending him crashing back into the water. The sudden freezing liquid seeping through the top of his suit sent the air rushing out of him and for a heart-stopping moment, he couldn't breathe.

"Gordon!"

"Yeah, yeah, present sir." Still wheezing, he launched himself across the surface of the water, aiming for the far corner next to the control panel. "You've gotta get to the top deck, Allie."

"What? I'm not leaving you."

"And I'm not letting you drown on my watch. Scott would drag me back on a Ouija board and kick my ass." Not his best joke, admittedly, but it did the job as Alan's nervous laugh resounded through the comms link. Pressing his palms to the panel in front of him, tearing off his gloves so that he could ground himself better, he concentrated on taking even breaths. He could feel the edges of panic creeping in, threatening to overwhelm the adrenaline rush, and all training stated that the first rule of rescues was not to panic. It was just a shame, he thought, digging his nails into his clenched fists, that his body apparently wasn't listening to that line, because yep, he was panicking pretty damn bad.

"Gordon. Your heart rate is too high."

He was tempted to make a sarcastic remark to that one. "Yeah, John, thanks for that, I really hadn't noticed given the entire drowning thing I've got going on here."

Alan made a muffled noise of horror. John, to give credit where it was due, didn't react. "You know the techniques. Use them. Calm down. We're getting you out."

You know the techniques. It was the first mention any of them had made so far to the hydrofoil incident, but the knowledge that he'd almost drowned before, and been awake for the experience was not escaping any of their notice. Gordon pressed his forehead to the cold metal and began counting. Forwards. Backwards. Even. Odd.

The water around his hands was cloudy with blood. Uncurling his fists revealed that his nails had dug into his palms, leaving scarlet crescent moons that were seeping into the water. Biting back a curse, he attempted to cling onto the wall in front of him, inhaling sharply.

"Thunderbird Two is too far out. Alan can't reach me without diving equipment. I'm out of laser cutters. Johnny, what do I do?" Gordon hadn't meant for the desperation to slink into his voice, but the water was gliding over his shoulders. It was no secret that drowning was the top of his worst-ways-to-die list.

"Alan's on the top deck. We're on a private link." John, ever perceptive, spoke softly, monitoring his younger brother's vitals with concern. Talk about being smacked in the face with your worst fears. He ran a hand through his hair, silently urging Virgil to fly faster.

"John."

"Yes?"

Gordon closed his eyes. "Johnny."

For once, John didn't protest the nickname. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't wanna die." Gordon's voice broke on the final word. He sucked in a shuddering breath, furiously blinking back tears. "Please."

"You're not going to."

"It's cold."

"Gords." For the first time in a long while, John found himself lost for words. "Don't talk like that. Don't talk like you're giving up."

"M'scared." The glow that had been illuminating the water where he was clinging to the wall was finally extinguished as the last power in the controls died. Darkness immersed him, thick and choking. All he could hear was the water splashing against the walls and his outstretched arms, combined with the groaning of the ship as the Albatross threatened to give out under the pressure. Unable to catch his breath, Gordon lost his grip on the wall, keeling back as something brushed against his ankle. In the inky blackness, he couldn't see a thing. Lashing out, he couldn't find the wall, and thrashing in the water, a rush of panic flooded over him. "John-" With a heavy groan, the engines once again gave out under the lack of power. Under the new strain, the Albatross tilted forwards, sending water rushing over his head. Unable to find the surface, Gordon struggled in the water, kicking wildly.

"Four. Gordon. Gordon." John's voice became a blur in his head as he floundered in the water, unable to tell which way was up or down. His chest burnt, aching with the need for oxygen. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, cold water flooding down the back of his suit, overcoming the heater in seconds, without the protection of the helmet. Something sharped raked across his side and he flinched away, twisting in the water. It took all of his control not to take a breath, but the desire for air was becoming uncontrollable. "Alan's coming, hold on, Gordy, please…"

The fierce burning down his side was matched only by the burning in his lungs. He was aware of a sudden bright light to the right, before suddenly he was choking on freezing water, agony lighting up across his chest and throat. Someone was screaming his name before he slipped under the darkness once more.

Alan was on the verge of panicking himself when he heard Gordon's order to head back to the top deck. He'd only ever heard his brother sound that terrified twice before in his life (when their Dad went missing and the other time which they never spoke of). On the plus side, he knew his brother (Gordon was nothing if not a fighter), but on the other hand, with Thunderbird 2 a good seven minutes out, with only five minutes left; the odds were most decidedly not in their favour (why had Kayo forced him to watch Hunger Games again?).

Wandering along the corridor, drifting his hand along the wall, he could feel the minute vibrations trembling through the ship under the sheer pressure of the water flooding into the lower decks. It was stark reminder of how quickly the control room was filling with water. Alan also knew fully well just how freezing said water was; they were in the Atlantic (and he'd watched Titanic before) and even with the heater in his suit, Gordon couldn't last long in temperatures that cold without beginning to suffer from the effects.

Turning on his heels, he headed to the top deck. Despite the aquanaut's orders (and John's confirmation), Alan had been planning to return to the bridge, to see if he could find any ways to help his trapped brother. Now, with the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind, Alan broke into a sprint for the top deck. He hadn't lied to Gordon; he was following orders, but at the same time, there was no way in hell he was about to leave.

Bursting out in the storm came as a shock; with the burning worry about Gordon occupying his thoughts, Alan had forgotten about the gales and deluge outside. The wind caught him, and it took all of his strength to regain his balance and avoid being thrown overboard. Keeping low to the deck, he began the slow crawl to the edge of the ship. It went against every instinct to peer out over the deck in winds this strong, but amongst the rolling waves, he still couldn't see what he was looking for.

"John-"

"Not now Alan."

Alan fought back the wave of hurt that threatened to wash over him at the dismissal. Instead, he remained in a crouch, pressing his gecko-gloves to the deck to prevent being dragged across the floor by the gale, and listened into the comms link. Gordon's bitter words of 'drowning' struck a nerve and he couldn't quite hold back his horrified exclamation; instead of the shout, he let out a muffled squeak. John's hologram blinked into life on his watch, shooting him a reassuring look without speaking. Still, Alan thought, tilting his head back to stare into the darkened skies above, silently wishing to see '2's VTOLs cutting through the clouds (he loved '3, but what would he give to see Thunderbird 2 right now), at least Gordon was still talking.

Amidst words of advice, John held up one finger, before cutting the link. After a beat of silence, Alan realised with a rush of anger that his older brother had prevented him from hearing what was being said and attempted to join the call again. John blocked his attempts instantly, his hologram still muted. Instead of giving into the annoyance and hurt that threatened to overwhelm him, Alan slunk forwards, his stomach pressed to the water-logged deck. Staring down into the seething sea below, he felt a rush of trepidation about what he was about to do. But, as he finally glimpsed '4's bright yellow hull amongst the waves, there was no other way. Gordon was going to be out of time and air by the time Virgil arrived.

He took a deep breath and tapped his helmet. "John? I'm going in." John unmuted himself and stared at him for a second, as though silently judging. "Don't go telling me not to, or I swear-"

"Go for it."

"W-what?" Alan couldn't keep the stammer out of his voice, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

John appeared paler than usual, an uncharacteristic fear in his eyes. "Go. We don't have time." With a nod of confirmation, Alan closed his eyes and dived off the side of the ship.

An entire lifetime of Gordon as the brother closest to his age meant that Alan had spent a lot of his time growing up at a swimming pool or some sort of water source (summer in Kansas meant that the public pools were often packed, so the family would often end up in the river). This had resulted in him learning the proper stance and skills of diving, without hitting the water at the wrong angle. Throughout his childhood, this practise had exasperated his grandmother and father to no ends as he returned from swimming pool at Gordon's heels with new bruises and aching limbs, but since the start up of International Rescue, his diving abilities had come in handy; Gordon may be their aquanaut, but it helped to have another diver at hand if necessary.

This resulted in Alan instinctively knowing how to angle his body in order to cut through the surface of the water without any hinderance. Thunderbird 4 waited, ever faithful, several metres down, buffeted by the currents. With one hand outstretched, Alan fell into his usual swimming strokes, powerful kicks sending him down towards the depths. His fingertips met the familiar yellow (and somewhat scratched; that last rescue had been a mess) hull, cold metal humming under his touch. Diving down further, his hands gliding over the sub's flank, he reached the airlock, flipping inside and allowing Thunderbird 4 to deposit him in the pilot's seat.

Thunderbird 4's cabin always took some getting used to (given she was the smallest of the Thunderbirds by far) as Alan was used to the open cockpits of '2 and '3. For the first time in a while, he was happy to be the shortest of the family as he reached out for the controls. Stray wrappers skittered about his feet, and he was aware of the water dripping from his suit onto the seat (Gordon was not going to be pleased about that – while the aquanaut's suit was designed to shed water the moment he entered the airlock, Alan's was built for space and did not have the same capability). The warm glow of holograms washed over him, accompanied by the high-pitched alarm (all the Thunderbirds were linked to their pilot's suits, as a safety measure; as a result, Thunderbird 4 was aware that her pilot was in trouble) which he hastily muted.

"Alan, Thunderbird Four is locked in on the coordinates for the control room."

"FAB."

Thunderbird 4 reacted instantly to the slightest pressure on the throttle, carving through the water leaving powerful currents in her wake. The Albatross loomed out of the shadows, a foreboding dark mass that hung low in the water. The readouts that flickered into being across '4's dash highlighted the increasing pressure that the ship was buckling under, and Alan swept them aside, instead focussing his sights on the dimming heat signature that was highlighted amongst the scan of the control room.

"Thunderbird Four," John appeared on the projector. "Step on it."

Alan didn't reply but tightened his grasp on the control. Thunderbird 4 darted to the right to avoid a panel of the ship that catapulted through the water towards her, twisting in the water to hover outside the control room.

"Okay, Four, work with me here. We can't hit him."

Thunderbird 4's laser ate through the side of the control room in a matter of seconds, the metal melting and hissing at the sudden scorching heat. With the extendable arm, Alan drove the newly cut metal out of the way, sending it spiralling down to the darker waters below.

"Okay." Silence fell. "Uh, John?" The words why isn't he swimming were not spoken as another alarm resounded about '4's cabin. "The pressure's too much!" Acting instinctively, he let his weight fall back in the chair, Thunderbird 4 flipping him head over heels and out into the agitated waters outside. "Why isn't he wearing a helmet, you idiot, Gordo…" Grasping handfuls of blue uniform and yellow sash, Alan tugged his brother closer to his side, all but falling through '4's back airlock to collapse in a heap on the floor inside. "John?"

"I have control of Thunderbird Four."

Alan's shoulders slumped in relative relief before a new-found panic washed over him. "Gordon?" He tore his helmet off, rolling it to the side as he bent over the prone form on the now water-logged floor. "Gordon." His breath caught in his throat as he stumbled forwards on all-fours, pressing a hand with splayed fingers to the aquanaut's chest. "J-John? I don't think…I don't think he's breathing." Cold terror flooded through him as his brother remained motionless. He felt for a pulse, struggling not to cry with relief when a weak butterfly flutter met his fingers. It was uneven, but it was there. Although if he couldn't get Gordon breathing again, that was going to change.

John, for all his attempts to remain calm, sounded just as panicked as Alan. "Follow your training. You can do this."

"Did he breathe in water? I don't…I think he…fuck." Alan grabbed his brother's shoulders, dragging his sibling onto his side with a growl of frustration. "Come on Gordon, breathe." Hot tears burnt in his eyes, blurring his vision as he urged the red-head to take a breath. "Stop being stubborn, please, you can't…you've gotta…" No response met his efforts and he felt back on his heels. "This is not happening." As well as the panic, a sense of fierce anger ignited, coursing through him and he cuffed away the tears, unable to hold back a frustrated scream. "You are not dying here. I'm not gonna let that happen." He slammed a hand down on his brother's back as hard as he could, tugging him forwards again. "Fucking breathe Gordon."

John's hologram hovered as the blond waited, struck silent with dread. He was briefly aware of a frantic sounding Virgil arriving at the rescue zone but couldn't tear his gaze away from the image of his two younger brothers.

After what seemed like an age, Gordon let out a harsh cough, choking on the inhaled sea-water. Alan looped an arm around his chest, pulling him further upright as the aquanaut continued to expel the water he'd swallowed in hoarse coughs, taking gasped breaths in between. A moment later, the coughing finally stopped, and silence fell. Gordon's arms trembled under his weight and Alan tightened his grip around his brother's chest.

"You're okay," the younger whispered, unsure as to who he was trying to convince. Gordon slumped against him and Alan let out a long breath, content to just stay crouched on the floor of Thunderbird 4 for the time being. Gordon was in no state to get up yet, let alone pilot the sub, and Alan made no move to end what had turned into a half hug. "Gordy?" He whispered after a second. Gordon didn't reply. "Um…are you-"

"Later. Talk about it later." Gordon cut him, his voice rasping painfully. Alan didn't push him, all too aware of the memories that had to have been thrown in his brother's face with the incident. Drowning was never fun, but nearly drowning twice…He didn't want to think about the repercussions of this incident.

"Thunderbird Four, this is Thunderbird Two. I've retrieved the final passenger and Thunderbird Five is remote piloting you to the surface, where I'll collect you." Virgil's voice softened. "Sit tight guys, we're going home."

Gordon closed his eyes. Alan didn't say another word, but the tension in his brother's shoulders revealed that the other was still conscious. "There's a blanket in the locker to your left."

"What?"

Gordon opened one eye. "Al, you're shivering. Get a blanket."

"And you're not. That's…"

"Yeah, I know." His words were getting less slurred by the minute, but Alan was still worried. "Get the blanket. That'll help both of us." Alan reached across, his sore muscles protesting at the action as the adrenaline began to wear off. The blanket was dark blue in colour and not soft like the ones on Tracy Island, but he was grateful for any kind of warmth. Thunderbird 4's heater began to purr, as though the sub could read his mind.

"Don't go to sleep."

Gordon yawned, practically snuggling into the new-found warmth. Alan draped an arm over his shoulder, trying to warm him up further, noting the water becoming light outside.

"Not planning to." The first shiver scuttled down the aquanaut's spine and he took another deep breath. "You took Four then."

"No scratches, I promise. Brains can't be angry at you."

"Hell yeah." He closed his eyes again. "Hey, Alan?"

"Don't."

"You don't know what I was going to say."

"If it includes the word sorry then I don't want to hear it."

Gordon hummed, his mouth quirking in a half-smile. "You're creepy."

"Blame John. Or Virg. They're the psychics."

"Fine. No apologies. Thanks, though."

There was a slight jolt as the grapple cable connected with '4's hull. "Promise me something?"

Gordon tapped his fingers against Alan's knee. "What?"

"Don't…" Alan blinked back tears. "Don't ever do that to me again."

"Alan." The I can't promise that remained unspoken. Instead Gordon shuffled back, snickering softly at Alan's disgruntled huff as wet copper hair brushed against his chin. "We've still got a pillow fight to finish."

It is now insanely late in the UK, so apologies for any mistakes.

Review?

Kat x.