The wheel of time forever turns and nothing can stop it. Days turned to weeks and Halloween drew ever-closer. On the surface, it looked like business as usual on the island. Nothing to see here, move along...
Gordon chuckled as he pried open the lid of yet another crate that had been delivered that morning. Something shimmered inside; it was bunting. Must be part of Virgil's grand plans, he thought. I wish he'd tell me the theme!
He peered inside again, trying to decipher the mysterious shapes inside.
"What have you got there, Gordon?"
Crap sticks! He let the lid snap shut again and turned. Tin-Tin was smiling at him, looking particularly resplendent with a bright pink flower in her hair.
"Oh, nothing much," Gordon said, toying with the edge of the lid. "I was just being nosy. It's another delivery for Brains."
"Another one?" Tin-Tin asked. "What on earth is he working on? There's been a steady stream of deliveries for him for the past few weeks."
"Who knows, Tin-Tin?" Gordon said. "He's always up to something in that lab."
Trying not to be seen, he started tapping Morse code into his watch.
NEED YOUR HELP, he sent to Brains. TIN-TIN SNOOPING IN HANGAR B. COME QUICKLY.
"It just all seems so strange," Tin-Tin said, trying to crane her neck around Gordon to see the crate. "He usually tells me everything about his experiments. This one seems top secret."
"Who knows?" Gordon asked. Then, sensing an opportunity, he looked at her out of the side of his eyes. "It could be - oh, never mind."
Perplexed, Tin-Tin's brow furrowed.
"No, go on," she said. "What were you going to say?"
Gordon heaved a sigh - perhaps overacting slightly - and leaned against the crate.
"Oh, you know. Brains has a lot of...affection for you, Tin-Tin, if you get my meaning. I think he's just finding it hard, knowing that you'll soon be married to Alan and all."
Tin-Tin's face darkened. For a moment, Gordon's chest tightened. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. I shouldn't have brought up the wedding...
"Poor Brains," she said. "I wish there was something I could do."
Phew! Gordon thought, mentally wiping his brow.Saved by Tin-Tin's overwhelming compassion for others!
"I know," Gordon said. "Maybe you could, I don't know, spend some time with him? Just to show that you're still there for him?"
Tin-Tin's eyes went impossibly wide.
"Oh, I don't want to make things worse," she said.
Gordon waved a finger at her and cocked his head to the side.
"But remember, Tin, he doesn't know that you know how he feels. He thinks you're in the dark and always have been."
Placing a hand over her heart, Tin-Tin nodded.
"Oh, of course," she said.
"So you wouldn't make it obvious that you were feeling sorry for him," Gordon said. "Just be normal. Act natural. Go for a friendly walk on the beach or something. He just wants to know that you're still his friend."
Before she could reply, the side door to the hangar opened and in walked the man himself.
"Oh, h-hello there, Gordon, Tin-Tin," Brains said. "I've just come to see if there's any, uh, m-mail for me today."
With a grin, Tin-Tin gestured to the crate Gordon was still leaning on.
"Yes, another delivery!" she said with a smile. "Whatever you're working on in that lab of yours must be very complex if you need all of these different components."
Blinking like a bewildered owl, Brains looked at Gordon. Get with the program, man! Gordon thought.
"Brains," he said. "Can you please make sure this crate gets to your lab nice and safely – just like all the other ones that have been arriving?" He flicked his eyes towards Tin-Tin. "We wouldn't want anything inside exploding or disappearing, would we?"
For a moment, Brains looked at Gordon as if he had grown two heads. But then the penny dropped hard and he nodded - a bit too theatrically.
"Oh, y-yes Gordon, of course!" he said, reaching for a trolley. "I'll t-take it right away."
"And afterwards," Tin-Tin said, a shade too quickly, "maybe we can go for a walk on the beach? It would be lovely to spend some time with you, Brains."
Blinking again, Brains slid the trolley under the crate and tipped it up.
"Th-that would be s-swell, Tin-Tin. I'll meet you -"
Just then, the emergency klaxon sounded. Gordon tried to hide his scowl. Dammit! So close! Then he pasted a determined grin on his face.
"Well, let's get to it!" he said.
The three compatriots made their way to the lounge where the crew had gathered. They were the last to arrive, so Alan's assessment was already well underway.
"...local authorities estimate that there could be as many as sixteen bikers trapped in that mountain pass, Father. They're worried that there could be fatalities."
"Alright, Alan," Jeff said. "Keep us appraised of any further developments and tell them we're on the way."
Gordon slid in beside Virgil, who leaned over.
"Avalanche in Mongolia. Sixteen mountain bikers are trapped and the authorities have no way of getting them out."
Gordon nodded and Jeff turned his attention to his crew.
"Scott, away you go. We'll need you to appraise the situation."
"Right away, Father," he said.
As Scott disappeared through the secret entrance to One's hangar, Virgil stood.
"I'll follow with Pod Five. It sounds like we might need the Mole."
Jeff nodded.
"Take Gordon and Matthew with you," he said.
"F.A.B."
For the first time, Gordon caught Matthew's eye. The redhead winked at him and fell in step as they headed to the passenger elevator.
"Here we go again," he said.
Gordon grinned and opened the bar-gate.
"Yes," he said. "Ready for another challenge?"
"Always," Matthew said as they clipped the safety rail in place.
The elevator began to descend. Gordon was about to make another comment but found himself silenced as Matthew leaned in, spun him around and pressed a kiss to his lips.
Stunned, Gordon blinked.
The elevator stopped its descent and clicked into place. Matthew left first, winking before disappearing to the locker where his uniform was kept. Gordon followed, brushing his lips with his fingertips.
~oOo~
"Hush, little baby, don't say a word. Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird."
Still keening and whining, Lyra squirmed in the cot. It took all of John's strength not to reach in and lift her. Instead, he contented himself with a hand on her front.
"And if that mockingbird don't sing, Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring."
John turned as he felt a hand on his waist. He shook his head.
"I don't like this nursery rhyme much," John said. "It suggests that money can buy happiness."
With a quiet snort, Elijah shook his head and leaned in to peer at the child in the crib.
"I think you're reading into it too much," he said. "She's not even a year old yet."
John rubbed gentle circles on his daughter's stomach.
"That doesn't matter," he said. "She's smart."
Elijah rolled his eyes, then leaned in to pet Lyra's head.
"Sure, we'll try something else then."
He began to sing.
"In Dublin's fair city,
Where girls are so pretty,
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone,
As she pushed her wheelbarrow
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, 'Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh!'"
Finding himself grinning, John joined in. It was a song he had heard many times when he lived in Cambridge, Mass.
"Alive alive, o-oh, alive alive, o-oh,
Crying, 'Cockles and mussels, alive, alive o-oh!'"
Then he stopped and shook his head.
"Wait a minute. Doesn't she die in this song?" he asked.
Elijah stopped mid-lyric and frowned.
"My god, man. It doesn't matter. She's not even one! And anyway," he added as he pointed at her, "she's dropped off now."
Indeed, she had. Her delicate blonde eyelashes were fluttering against her cheeks - red from teething - and her breathing had settled.
John withdrew his hand.
"Hopefully she'll stay asleep for a while. Her mouth has been killing her today."
With the lights dimmed and the door ajar, the two men crept out and down to the lounge. It was only seven-thirty and the evening was theirs, barring any interjections from the baby. Elijah took a detour and defaulted to his tea-making state. John went into the lounge and descended into the couch area.
The cushions were soft as clouds as he sank into them. He heaved a sigh and let his muscles start to unwind. It had been a long day.
Today's session had marked the end of his second week of therapy and Solomon had gone home for the weekend. In truth, John was exhausted – painfully so. It was, however, a good kind of pain. At long last, he was able to talk through his issues, to face his fears and demons - as he saw it, to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
When Elijah reappeared with two steaming cups, John gave him a weary smile.
"Tired?" Elijah asked as he sat beside him.
"Always," John replied.
They sat together and caught the evening news. The headline story was an ongoing rescue in the Khangai mountain range in Mongolia. Night was starting to fall there. The two men looked at one another over the rims of their cups.
"They'll be fine," Elijah said.
"Yeah," John replied.
It only took a few seconds before they looked at each other again.
"Shall we call the island?" Elijah asked.
After a moment's thought, John shook his head.
"No. It's better if we don't disturb Dad mid-rescue."
Elijah nodded and ran a fingertip around the rim of the cup.
"I guess we'll just have to wait it out here."
"Yeah... I can't wait until we get back," John said.
"Good," said Elijah. "Always look forward and never back."
They cuddled on the couch for a while, content in each other's company – though the thought of their brothers was not far from their minds.
~oOo~
"Whoa there, partner!" Matthew said in his best cowboy accent. "I think we're at the end of the rope!"
Neighing like a horse, Gordon felt his body jolt as Matthew stopped the winch. He was dangling down into the mountain pass, hanging from Two by a thread. The craft couldn't get in closer as the pass was too narrow.
"I feel like a booger!" Gordon said.
"And you resemble one, too," Virgil said. "How is it looking down there?"
Gordon tutted at his brother's remark.
"Rude," he said. Then he was back to business. "I can see the bikers," he said. "They're waving but some of them seem to be on the ground. Probably injured. I'm still quite a distance from them, though. The winch cable isn't anywhere near long enough."
"As we thought," Virgil said. "Are you still happy to proceed with the plan?"
Gordon chuckled and checked the pack straps around his shoulders.
"Ready and willing and raring to go!" he said. "I just hope this new invention of Brains's works!"
"In fairness," Matthew said, "if it doesn't, you won't really have time to find out!"
Gordon chuckled as he performed his final safety checks.
"Again, rude," he said. "Alright, boys. I'm ready. Wish me luck!"
Without waiting to hear their responses, Gordon slammed the top of his helmet with one fist and then with the other hand, simply detached himself from the winch cable.
It felt like he was falling at a thousand miles per hour and he was glad he had placed his left hand just in the right place. Hurtling into the abyss below, he pressed the button.
And then he was lifted upwards as two wings exploded from his backpack. His whoop of joy was loud enough to rattle his own ears as the usually sea-bound Tracy was lifted into the air, gliding through the pass.
It didn't take long for the walls to start encroaching and so Gordon moved on to part two of the plan. As his speed decreased, he reconfigured the harness so his body hung vertically instead of horizontally. Then, he activated the jets.
They were like a miniature version of Two's VTOLs. As they were deployed, the flying suit's wings retracted. By the time he reached the bottom, he landed gently on his feet.
"Landing successful," Gordon said as he started to unbuckle himself from the suit and harness.
"F.A.B.," Scott said. "Well done, Gordon. Now, triage the cyclists while we figure out the best way to come in with the Mole. Virgil will retreat to the landing area and Alan will figure out the best route in. As soon as the Mole's en route, I'll let you know."
"F.A.B.," Gordon said as he unclipped his helmet. "Just make it as fast as you can. I don't really want to become a Tracy pancake if there's another avalanche."
"Understood," Scott said.
Some of the victims were already coming towards Gordon. He slid the medical pack from his back, hoping it hadn't been too damaged by the weight of the harness on top of it.
"Takk Gud!" a man said. There was dried blood on his shins and his forehead. "Noen av oss er stygt skadd."
"Uhh," Gordon said, lifting the now open medical pack. "English?"
"Yes, yes," the man said. "Sorry. I said that some of us are badly hurt. Some of the riders need serious medical attention."
Gordon tried not to frown and instead schooled his expression into one of determination.
"Okay," he said. "Let me see them."
The man started to lead Gordon but stopped abruptly and turned around.
"How are you going to get us out of here?" he asked. "Does that…wing suit go back up again?"
Gordon urged the man to keep walking and shook his head.
"No, it doesn't," he said. "But don't worry. We have a plan."