Alan's call comes in not even fifteen minutes after EOS' does.

Scott's sat back down at their father's desk, a little bit numb, a little bit bewildered, more than a little bit frightened. He's only been able to play the message back once. He doesn't think he can stand to hear it a third time. Something about it sends a sick, nauseous chill through the heart of him, the paralysis of pure dread. Something about the finality of it, how unambiguous her choice of words had been—Harm has come to John.

Everything else she'd said seems like it pales in comparison to that, the only thing Scott keeps hearing, playing back in his head.

Something's happened to his brother. He's out in the world somewhere, and something's gone wrong, and for everything EOS had said, she hadn't said anything about where to find him, or how to help him, or just what the hell was wrong. Her cryptic message had been almost worse than knowing nothing at all, because now Scott knows that something's happened, but doesn't know what to do about it.

And it's just the same problem they've had ever since the whole ordeal started. No one knows what John's been doing. There's been no word of him, nothing to go on, only educated guesses and assumptions. But today had already had the feeling of something coming to an end, of pieces falling into place. Today Scott had heard his brother's voice for the first time in over a month, and he'd sounded—he hadn't sounded as though anything like harm had come to him. He'd sounded tired, maybe, a little bit furtive and fractured, but not like he'd been hurt at all, or like he expected to be.

That wasn't even eight hours ago. Something's happened since then, something's changed.

And now Alan's calling, but it takes Scott a minute to click back into himself, to bottle up the heartache and worry and fear and step back up to the matter at hand. He opens the channel and his little brother's hologram flares to life from the comm at the center of the desk. "Thunderbird 3," he says, automatically acknowledging his little brother, though he still feels weird and disconnected as he focuses on Alan, waits for him to go ahead.

Except—

Something about Alan's changed, too.

He doesn't know exactly what, but it's immediately apparent, and it's real and arresting and freezes Scott where he sits. Alan's changed once before, and now he's changed again, and Scott doesn't know if he likes it. Alan's eyes are bright and his jaw is set and he's just—different. Casting about for some sort of label to apply to the way he's changed, Scott seems to stumble across the idea that something's missing, somehow.

And—

"I found John."

There's no preamble, nothing to soften the news. Alan just says it, just drops it into the call like John hasn't been missing for a solid month. It's supposed to be relief that comes flooding into Scott now, it's supposed to loosen the tautness in his chest and lighten the weight on his shoulders—this is the news Scott's been waiting for, today of all days. But something about the statement seems incomplete, leaves Scott hanging.

Alan continues—

"And John found Dad. Dad's alive and John found him."

There's no way in the world Scott could've been ready for that one.

And it hits like a strike of lightning, a bolt from the blue moment of clarity that explains everything.

That's what John's been doing.

That's what would be worth tearing himself out of the family for, worth throwing everything away. That's why he went after EOS—he must have needed her, must have believed she was the key to finding their father. That has to be it. It's been three years since they lost their Dad and Scott knows it better than anyone else—that John just never came to terms with that, never found his way to anything like closure. The prospect of losing EOS must have been what set him off—he'd said, not even that long ago, that he couldn't face up to that kind of grief again. No wonder he'd decided to do this. John's always had that sort of brilliant efficiency about him, it had just been two birds with one stone. John had to save EOS in order to find out what had happened to their father.

It makes so much sense.

It's also entirely the wrong conclusion.

—or, anyway, Scott's got the causality of it backwards—but it still hits him in the chest like that same lightning strike, a bolt of pure white fire, straight from heaven. Scorches away every last scrap of fear and doubt, redeems his faltering faith in his brother, and fills him to the brim with the purpose that's been missing, the reason for it all. His brother hasn't lost his mind, his brother's found their father.

It's enough to pull Scott to his feet, to snap him out of that haze and into reality again, into a world that he wants to inhabit, where his father's alive and his brother's coming home, a past and future he'd never expected to intersect.

"Thunderbird 3, say again?" he demands, but crisp this time, clear and right and with his heart beating the way it's meant to, with surety and certainty and hope.

"John found Dad. Dad's alive and John found him, and I've got them, I've got them both, but Scott—"

Scott's not listening as Alan's voice breaks off, not listening as he pulls up TB3's location, its flight path and its status. There's a vessel in the cargobay, two life signs aboard. Alan's still different, but Scott doesn't care. The change that's come over Alan is secondary to the change that's come over the world at large, where the fundamental truth of his father's absence has reversed polarity, and Jefferson Tracy is alive again. Nothing else could possibly matter in a world where that's true.

Or so he thinks, anyway, right up until Alan finds his voice again. When he speaks, Scott realizes what's changed, the way his little brother's gone all grim, hardened and taut and with all of the emotion purged out of him as he says, "Scott, John's dying."

This doesn't hit Scott quite the way it should either.

Because that can't be right. He wouldn't dare. There's no way in the world that could be true, John can't be—after everything. Everything he's done, everything he's put them through, and everything he's been through himself—there's no way John's dying. John's just found their father. There's no way John's not going to make it home. Scott's not going to stand for it. The tenor of the situation shifts and it's once again a question of what Scott's wanted to do all along—just to save his brother, whether he wants saving or not. So, brisk, in Thunderbird 1's voice, "What's his status, Thunderbird 3?"

Scott can see the tension in his little brother, the way his whole body's become an extension of his bird, the way he's still got that curious air of detachment about him, and his voice doesn't waver as he answers the question, "Cardiac distress. Severe cardiac distress. Dad's got him, but he needs a hospital; we're going to Zurich. I've gotta call it in, I can't stay on the line."

It's the only hospital in the world that can handle a ship the size of TB3 and Scott's already doing the mental calculation for how long it'll take him to get there from the island, at speed. Not much more than an hour. And he can do more than just that, as he gives the order, "Burn hard out of orbit, I'll call and coordinate clearance for your landing, make sure they're expecting you."

Alan gives a curt nod in answer. "Right. Right, okay. ETA's about twelve minutes."

"FAB, Alan. I'll be there as soon as I can."

The call drops without a further word, but Scott's been galvanized and he's already running for the opposite wall, mentally preparing himself for launch, mentally queuing up calls to Virgil, to Kayo and Gordon. TB1's been fueled up and ready ever since he'd first gotten back to the island, though that seems like ages ago now; part of a lifetime that falls on the other side of a newly drawn line.

His dad is alive.

His dad is alive and Alan's with him and they've got John.

And John's not dying. Scott doesn't care what Alan says, cardiac distress or not, it's just not going to happen. The part of him that's sparked and caught fire and gotten caught up in that firestorm of hope is thinking about how things had gone the last time John had been dying, and how it's going to be okay, because it just has to be. John's going to be fine. Scott refuses to believe that the world where he gets his father back is a world cruel enough to take his brother's life in trade. It's not going to happen.

His back hits the wall and his hands are reaching upward, before Scott's heart catches up with his brain and he remembers something he's forgotten, something massively, vitally important. Something for which he can spare the time. He shoves himself away from the wall and bolts for the stairs up into the villa proper, makes straight for his grandmother's bedroom.