I am having far too much fun reading the awesome reviews I'm getting. Thanks for all the support! And I'm dearly sorry about the delay—finals and AP exams this week had me busier than anything!
John moaned and tried to turn his head away from the noise above him. But the persistent talking and taps on the cheek wouldn't stop, forcing him to finally open his eyes and see the worried faces of his older and younger brother above him.
"Don't go to sleep on me now, Johnny," Virgil said.
Licking his dry lips, John answered, "Trying not to."
John saw Scott beyond Virgil, looking like his usual in-charge self. It was strange, really, John mused. Scott always had to have it together. There was rarely a display of emotion, and if there ever was, it was typically Virgil who saw the most of it. John was only witness to a few meltdowns. Scott could be terrifying if he tried. Or sometimes if he didn't try. John liked to compare his older brother to a faucet with too much water pressure built up behind it. Only some of Scott's true emotions and feelings would trickle out at times, and then one day, without warning, the faucet would explode off the sink as the water pressure became too much. The problem would then be fixed for a time, before the cycle started over again.
It most likely wasn't the best thing for the pilot. But it was who Scott was, and he was the leader of the team. If it wasn't for the strong, unfailing leadership, John was willing to bet that a lot of rescues wouldn't have ended up as successful as they did.
John could relate. They both dealt with their feelings in silence. But the astronaut generally didn't blow up. He could handle it on his own. Usually.
"How are you feeling?" Scott asked, the concern only evidenced by the lines on his forehead.
"I've been better." John coughed and felt the pain searing through his body.
Both of his brothers clearly saw him wince. Scott set about unfolding and setting up the stretcher, while Virgil began fixing the brace around John's neck.
"Where does it hurt?" Virgil inquired quietly, as he studied the piece of metal embedded in John's shoulder.
"Everywhere."
Virgil managed a sort of smile that looked more like a grimace. John gave his younger brother a lopsided grin. Virgil was on the opposite side of the spectrum when it came to dealing with his emotions. Whereas Scott and John would be more inclined to spend time alone or in silence, the medic could be heard throughout the house when he was frustrated. Piano music would drift through the open doors and windows, starting out fast and furious, moving to a soft and often mournful tune, and then ceasing after a few uplifting bars. On other occasions, John remembered walking by a few paintings that could very easily have resembled a fire. Or a hurricane. He didn't understand. It didn't matter how angry or upset Virgil was; his art was always beautiful in some way, never looking like some five-year-old had had a field day with a blank canvas.
"That doesn't surprise me," Virgil muttered. "I think we best get you to Two."
He turned and glanced at Scott. The older pilot knelt down and pushed his hands under John's back, careful to support his spine. John was never able to quite comprehend Scott and Virgil's bond, but it was all right. Some things were like that. Best left alone, to be marveled at. Like space.
Virgil grabbed John's legs, and John felt himself being lifted up and over onto the stretcher. He clenched his teeth against a stab of pain from his shoulder.
"It's okay, Johnny," Scott murmured. "We'll have you sorted out soon."
John sighed raggedly and let his eyes slip shut. Everything hurt. Things were beginning to blur together. Scott's words sounded garbled.
He instead focused on the feeling of the uneven terrain as his brothers carried him back to Thunderbird 2. It was keeping him awake, at least. It would be so much easier to just fall asleep, though…