For Gordon, that moment stretches, paused, and he is able to take in all the detail he could want and more. The sunlight casts a dancing shadow as it passes through the outside trees, patterns that are frozen in an endless cycle of formation and reformation. There's a bug crawling on the wall – some sort of cricket that would cause a racket during the night if they didn't get it out. And John's expression is stuck half way between a smile and shock, Gordon seeing the very moment that John realised his misstep and that there is no way to recover. Gordon can see it all, but is equally frozen, unable to reach out. Then time snaps back, and John is scrabbling for something to hold on to. Gordon lurches forward desperate to find his brother's grasp, but their hands miss by barely an inch.
"Scott! Virgil!" Gordon is bellowing even as John is still tumbling down the stairs. Gordon doesn't waste any time following John, racing his falling form as it bounces to the ground floor. He's kneeling by John's side just seconds after he lands hoping he is not already too late.
"John? Can you hear me?" He asks gently. John has landed on his side and Gordon doesn't want to move him in case of spine damage, but feels tentatively for a pulse. He leans over to feel John's breath on his cheek. Good on both counts, but there is a smear of blood across the back of his head. Not a lot, but after the last injury... ohshitohshitohshitohshit .
"Scott! Virgil! Get your asses here NOW!"
That last must have done it, for just moments later the pounding of footsteps bought the other two to the top of the stairs – hair rumpled and sleep swept the sweat pants and t-shirts that passed for pajamas.
"What happened?" Scott demanded, as he and Virgil thundered down.
"He fell. He wasn't looking properly. And he stepped out. And he fell. And I couldn't reach him, couldn't catch him. He... Virgil?" Gordon asked, heart beating fitfully in his chest as he gasped out his explanation to where Virgil was examining John.
"John, I need you to speak to me." Virgil was moving his finger in front of John's face, and his now open eyes were following it's path. "John? John?"
John meanwhile... When thinking back later he could remember the feeling of hanging in the air at the top of the stairs, and being crumpled at the bottom, but thankfully none of the no-doubt painful intermediate falling. It was one blank he was glad to have.
Right now he could hear yelling, then bright light in his eyes, someone talking to him maybe. But that was all in the distance and muffled: his attention was elsewhere as John was seeing stars. Not in the cartoon sense of stars and birds twirling round his head. Nor flashes that might accompany yet another crack to the skull. Actual, real stars.
He had to take his eye from the telescope, just for a moment, to check he was still standing on solid ground. Using his own eyes he was safe in the backyard, Dad behind him grinning at his son's delight. When he was looking through the telescope though he was standing in the middle of the milky way: he could almost feel himself floating among stars more numerous than anything he could have imagined. It was like when Virgil had spilled glitter on the carpet the other day – the sweep of reflective particles didn't stay on the dark floor and got everywhere, he was in so much trouble - but even more enthralling. Why had he never looked at the sky like this before?
He was pointing out the constellations to Alan – the island sky giving an uninterrupted view that was rivaled in few places in the world. He didn't have many more nights before he had to go back to college and Alan had been bugging him all week for some star-spotting. Tonight was perfect – not a cloud in the sky, a bowl of popcorn by their side and a whole universe in front of them.
This was his favourite place on the station. If he turned slightly to his right he would see into the endless emptiness that was unfathomably full – the stars steadfastly untwinkling when not viewed through an atmosphere. They had never seemed closer, or so far away. If he looked to the left he would see the iridescent marble that was the Earth. Thunderbird 5 was currently in geosynchronous orbit with the island which meant he could almost reach out and touch his home and his family . Here was the perfect spot of perfect balance - head in the sky, heart on the ground.
John was disorientated for a moment – layers of faces and places stacking one on top of the other before slotting into place. Memories forming, then fading in to each other, in waves that blurred together. It was like waking from a dream but in reverse. Instead of the dream slipping away as consciousness dawned he seemed to gather in the threads of his life with each moment. As the visions cleared John managed to focus on what was going on around him. The concerned faces. The stressed tones.
Gordon watched with trepidation as John seemed to come back to himself – blinking slowly but gaze focusing relatively quickly.
"Virgil, go grab a back board and a neck brace from downstairs." Scott said, but John frowned said "Come off it, that's hardly necessary" and sat up slowly.
"I think I'll be the judge of that" Virgil was stern, but let John prop himself up and wasn't running off to the medbay. "It's a miracle you didn't break an arm or leg really."
"I'm feeling fine" John insisted, though his grimace promised that he would have at least some pretty impressive bruises.
"You were unconscious again." Gordon told him. Unconscious and still and looking like Gordon had killed him because of pancakes. "Two head injuries in a week is two too many."
"This doesn't count – I was barely out. You guys get hit like this all the time and walk it off."
"Because we don't have time for a full medical in the middle of an operation." Scott said with some exasperation.
"And you get a full med check afterwards? Every time? Well, I'm going to start enforcing that from now on." John crossed his arms.
Gordon tried to hide a grimace, thinking back to all the times that he had received a knock to the head, all the times that John had kept an eye on him but kept it quiet. Trusting the tech to take care of them, trusting them to speak up when the elements had got the best of them. If John was going to start insisting on following proper procedure they may never be out of the medbay.
Virgil leant in, waving a finger in John's face to check if his eyes could focus. Apparently satisfied he sat back and said "Well if you have no blurred vision or nausea or headache," John shook his head at each one "and you can move all your limbs, " John nodded "then I think you managed to escape a serious injury. Sorry. Another serious injury."
"Today is my lucky day then." John reached a hand out, and Gordon pulled him to his feet.
"Sorry," Gordon said. "I should have let you look where you were going."
"And I should watch my feet. Don't sweat it." John shrugged, rolling his shoulder slightly. He touched the back of his head gingerly, and studied the smear of blood that came away. It had already stopped flowing. "I think I may need to clean up though."
"I still think you need an x-ray, maybe even another MRI." Virgil said, hands on hips.
"You should probably eat Virgil you worry too much when you're hungry and we were just about to make pancakes." John joked.
Scott squinted slightly, eyes fixed on John as he walked slowly to the kitchen and leant on the counter. Gordon joined him, dampening a teatowel that John accepted with a nod to press against his head.
"What did you say?"
"Pancakes. I was going to have some. Still going to."
"Not that, about Virgil."
"What? We all know he gets very stressed when he's hungry." Virgil nodded is resigned agreement.
"Exactly and - " But Scott was interrupted by a shrill beep from the main console.
"Er, This is Thunderbird Three. John are you there? I need you please!" came Alan's young voice as their systems recognised and broadcast a priority signal.
In a flash, all four were gathered round the desk.
"I'm here, what's the situation?" John said, calm and serious, bringing up several displays with an easy flick of the wrist.
"We're about twelve hours out from the atmosphere but I think something has disturbed an asteroid field and we have a lot more debris than I was expecting. Something is interfering with the sensors and I need you to help me analysis the shift."
"On it." John said, fingers flying. He glanced at several data readouts while simultaneously typing, created three graphs and bundled them with what looked like some sort of code into a file.
"That should help Alan" he said sending it with a wave of his hand.
"Let's see. That will do nicely! Thanks John, see you all in about twelve and a half."
That was incredible really, how John could be on top of a situation so quickly, even...
With.
No.
Memory.
"John? Do... do you remember?" Gordon asked, thinking how John knew about their narrow escapes and Virgil's hunger-worry.
"I think. Well, maybe. Err just." John leant on the desk, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.
"Use your words John." Virgil said gently.
John did, slowly and carefully in typical John fashion how he was trying to sort out a sudden jumble of memories - their sudden reoccurrence being as disorientating as it was welcome. Gordon didn't care how discombobulated John was feeling – he remembered!
They had all been trying to keep up a positive attitude for John's sake, but the fear that he would never regain those memories had wormed deep. Facts can be relearnt. Skills could be refreshed. But the precious memories of their childhood – when their family was whole and happy – that couldn't be replaced. Neither could those visceral emotions of their first few missions together: those first flushes of adrenaline, the swell of pride at their first successful rescue, the horrified shock when it was hammered home that they wouldn't always come out on top. Those experiences bonded them closer as a family than anyone outside their small circle could realise, and the potential that one of them might have lost it... that had been the worst.
And now no-one would have to explain to Kayo or Aland or – shudder - Grandma why they let John get so badly hurt in their own home
"I still can't remember going for a shower, and coming down from Five is fuzzy, but yeah, I think it's all there. It's a bit confusing. But there."
"Well, if that's the only thing you've permanently lost then I think we can count ourselves lucky." Virgil said, still looking like he may well drag John downstairs for a full medical anyway, no matter how well he was feeling.
"Yeah, I'm very glad I can remember taking my NASA exams, I was dreading doing them again." John gave a wince at the thought. And as John in full study mode was painful enough for the rest of them – he tended to get short tempered and short of patience in the lead up to a big deadline – Gordon was glad of that too.
John had started to gather the ingredients for pancakes so the other three got themselves settled on to stools to make helpful, or not so helpful, suggestions. John ignored them all, not wavering from his tried and tested recipe.
As he watched Gordon considered that if John had recovered all his memories, then he should remember their bet. Friendly wagers between the family were not uncommon but Gordon was willing to admit that he let this one get a bit out of hand, and he really, really, really, really, didn't want John to collect. Maybe that little event had got washed away with those shower memories.
Between beating the mix and heating the pan John turned around and caught Gordon's eye. The twinkle there and slight smirk told Gordon everything he needed to know - John remembered and he was going to collect.
Gordon suppressed a groan: sometimes brothers were the worst.
I rewrote this several times, it was almost 500 hundred words, and then it was going to be another 4 chapters, and then managed to find a middle ground - let me know what you think!
I do have an idea for that bet, and think it may form the basis of another fic so that this can get wrapped up, as I'm finding that I'm quite enjoying writing Gordon.