A/N: Only a short one, but it's still an update. I've had a stressful week, so please take any errors into consideration if you notice them! Thank-you for all the lovely wishes for good luck, and the wonderful reviews. I really, really appreciate them more than you will ever know!

Disclaimer: If not for Sylvia and Gerry Anderson, I would not be able to play in this wonderful playground, so no; I do not own the Thunderbirds.

Also, I am a university student of Primary Education, so you must take everything I say on medical topics with a grain of salt, as it is only what I have gathered from online sources!

There was a marked improvement of my cognitive processes when I opened my eyes; at least from my perspective. I felt groggy and still a little overheated, but it seemed as though all the wires in my brain seemed marginally more connected than last time. It took my brain a bit of work, but as my mental faculties gradually returned, I realised that I had fallen asleep in the middle of my conversation with Virgil. My eyes snapped open, only to immediately slam shut again as the low light of the room shot into my retinas.

Ouch was definitely an understatement.

I groaned as I shifted a little on the bed, discomfort at the position I was reclined in registering in a blaze of hot fire. My chest was tight, and my mouth was dry, exacerbating the tenderness in my throat as the sound emerged from my lips.

"John?" I was grimly pleased to discover that mere sound didn't send barbed sparks of pain stabbing into my head, and I decided that I'd satisfy my curiosity and try opening my eyes again.

"Dad?" I croaked, squinting past the fog to see the face matching the voice swim into focus in front of me. I couldn't deny that I was totally confused about the ease with which I had zoned out. I wondered where Virgil had gone, but I was a little distracted as Dad ran his hand over my forehead, and I sighed at the cool, rough feel of his fingers. Clearly I still had a fever to some extent.

"Oh John…" Dad sighed in tired relief. "Thank God. Virgil told me that you'd woken up earlier. How are you feeling, Son?"

I had to think about that; the mention of my immediate younger brother temporarily delaying my thoughts regarding my father's question. I lowered my eyes a little as the headache became more noticeable, but it was so muted compared to how terribly strong it had been last time I was awake that it was more of a minor annoyance than anything. My guess was that the nurse had come back to examine me in the interim and had given me the good stuff.

I took a mental inventory, making a step-by-step analysis of how each part of me felt as thoughts became clearer. I had already catalogued the discomfort from the area below my collarbone as a sound eight or nine on the scale, and the headache was there, albeit ignored, as well as the scratchy, tender feeling that was left from the tube that had been in my throat. There was also the deep-seated, throbbing ache that was centered at the side and front of the right upper part of my torso. There was no question that it was numbed by drugs, judging from the heaviness in my limbs and the fuzziness in my head, but I could definitely feel the jabbing pressure that would become screaming when the meds wore off.

There was coolness flowing into my nostrils with each shallow inhalation of breath, and I followed that thought down to the slightly crackly, painful tightness in my lungs that accompanied them. Different to the pain caused by the incision sites from the chest tube and the surgery, I knew that it was from the residual fluid in my lungs that my thoracic region felt so tight and sore.

"'M okay." I rasped, whispering to try and prevent the cough I could feel building in my chest, but I wasn't successful. Not entirely. My father seemed to realise what was coming even before I did; placing his hand on my shoulder and behind my back to lean me gently forward as I started to cough.

It was agony.

Pain exploded in a white-hot flare; shooting from my right side, all through my chest and down my sternum with each spasming inhalation. I gasped and choked on my own breath, beginning to panic as I felt the mucus catch in my throat. It really hurt.

I wrapped my left arm around my torso to brace myself as a nurse came tearing in, grabbing an oxygen mask from behind me as I cried out in pain.

I managed to calm myself solely by listening to my father's nonsensical murmuring, as I took in as much of the concentrated oxygen as I could. It took a while, but once I'd managed to slow my breathing to something that didn't hurt so desperately, I had to endure the nurse's poking and prodding to ensure that I hadn't torn any of the sutures that I knew were holding the edges of the incisions together, and that there was no damage from where the chest tube was. I found myself realising that I didn't even want to think about the different tubes and wires that were attached to my body. I held back a shudder at the thought of anything being inserted into me, even if it was helping me out.

The nurse left after ensuring that I was as comfortable as could be, leaving the oxygen mask over my mouth and nose to ensure that I was getting a good saturation. I hadn't even taken notice of her name. I hadn't paid much attention to anything yet, despite the higher level of thought that I'd reached this time around. It had barely been two minutes since I'd opened my eyes, and there was really nothing in my brain but confusion and achiness. I'd have been surprised if I managed to hold out long enough to ask anything I needed to of my father.

I leaned back into the pillows, and raised my good hand, although it was hampered by the IV lines, to rub wearily at my eyes. I was beyond exhausted, despite apparently 'sleeping' for two weeks straight, but there was no way in hell that I was going to go back there again until I'd gotten all the answers to the questions I had in my head about the surgery, the pneumonia, the kidney infection, and why there had been basically no warning as to their presence in the first place.

"Dad?" I asked tiredly. "How's everyone? Where's… boys and… Grandma?"

By the boys, I meant Alan and Gordon; Virgil I knew would be with Scott, and Grandma because I didn't even want to think of how she was coping with the two of her grandchildren ill, especially since we'd been through this sort of thing before.

"Grandma has Alan at the farmhouse. It's nearly two am. Gordon refused to go. He's in with Virgil and Scott in the lounge downstairs having a sleep. They're only letting us in two at a time. You're still in the ICU, and the hours are pretty strict. They're intending to move you to a normal room tomorrow, depending on your lungs."

I nodded, sleepily. I tried to force myself to try and drag the answers to my questions, but I could feel the mind-numbing exhaustion taking me over again, and realised that my little resolution wasn't going to go well with my body's inability to stay awake; not minding that it was extremely early in the morning anyway.

I felt a flash of annoyance at myself and my own weakness, but I knew from experience that there was nothing to be gained in the slightest by pushing my body past its boundaries, as limiting as they were at the moment. At least I had been able to reassure my father to some extent about my state of health. I knew that he really was struggling with this, and even though it was so small and insignificant; the action of just waking up in his sights, I knew that he'd would be a lot more at ease now he'd seen and spoken to me himself, rather than just hearing that I had from my brother.

I could feel my eyes slipping closed as fingers brushed slowly across the back of my good hand, instinctively avoiding the taped port for the IV they'd apparently attached for the presumed antibiotics. I relaxed, embracing sleep as it allowed me to escape from the pain, and breathed as deeply as I could considering the ache it caused, knowing that I was safe with my father.

##

The next time I awoke, it was clearly daylight, and my surroundings had changed. Muzzily, I recalled the echoes of my father's voice saying something about moving rooms, and I figured that this was it. I was on the opposite side of the room for starters, but not only was there a lot more space, there also seemed to be a great deal more furniture than before, and I didn't just mean the rolling table, the small chest of drawers, or the chairs.

I didn't appear to have anyone looking at me this time. All four of my brothers were there; only Grandma and my father remained absent, but it was with the greatest of interest that I watched them, despite the apparent reason why I'd woken in the first place. I found I didn't particularly care; achy chest and utterly painful head were irrelevant and thankfully ignored when I realised what exactly my siblings were engaged in.

They'd apparently commandeered the television set, and had turned it down to the lowest possible level as to not disturb me, but even I could tell, with my pounding head and blurred vision, that the Royals were definitely losing this game.

I grinned tiredly to myself, as I watched the anguish on both Gordon and Virgil's faces as they realised that their team was losing the innings. Scott was reclined on the couch nearest the small window, reading what seemed to be one of the old western novels that he'd undoubtedly raided the attic for, but I could see that he seemed rather more invested in the game, seeing as the Yankees would be playing the winners.

Alan was clearly fighting against the urge to yell at the top of his lungs. The Boston Red Sox were his favourite team, and the fact that they were beating Virgil's was making him overexcited. He was bouncing so hard in his effort to keep quiet that I was a little confused as to how he hadn't fallen over, with how precariously he was balanced on his knees on the seat of his chair.

I closed my eyes a little as a rather inelegant thump came from Alan as he jumped a little too hard as whichever player it was rounded third base and head for home, but the words popped out my mouth in a low mumble nevertheless.

"If you're not careful there Al, you'll take off and hit the outer atmosphere, and I guarantee that I'm not coming up there to get you."

There was a second of utter silence, save for the almost non-existent rumbling of the set, and then I was surrounded by older and younger brothers alike, some more subdued than others, but I was glad to talk to them all the same.

My eyes opened again, and a smile worked its way onto my lips as Virgil went sprinting out of the room, and I was then besieged by my two youngest brothers, asking me questions, and telling me things that probably weren't all that relevant, but l loved hearing it anyway. Scott just sat in the chair closest to me, and waited for The Two to run out of steam. I winced a little at their noise level, as much as I appreciated that they were pleased to see me awake, and he caught on immediately to the fact that Alan's higher voice was giving me a bit more of a headache than I ever really wanted.

"Guys." Scott warned. "Shush for a minute will you?" Gordon already had, really, but Alan, as he was, was still rattling on about something that included motorbike racing and engines.

Gordon elbowed the kid in the ribs, and Alan shut up immediately, the fourteen-year-old rubbing his chest in annoyance, though only for a second before he went to open his mouth to protest the treatment he was being given.

"Al." My voice was quiet, but as usual, it did the job. "I get that you're excited. Really I do. But can you please turn the noise level down a little?"

Alan looked horrified at his mistake. "Sorry!" He blurted, still in rather a loud voice.

I shook my head, my voice hoarse and dry, but thankfully no longer muffled by the oxygen mask. "It's fine. Just… tone it down a little. This headache's pretty… shocking."

And it was. Not very pleasant when I woke up, it was definitely climbing up the pain scale rather rapidly. I think Scott could tell, and he asked me, quietly, if I needed the doctor. He alone out of us seemed to have remembered I was still quite ill. I'd managed to forget, just in the slightest second, but as a person does when they don't want to face things; I pushed it away until it needed to be faced. Too bad it was sooner than I wanted.

I nodded disappointed, sick to death of being sick already, and wasn't that a scary saying to be thinking about when it was applied to what had almost happened to me? It sent a shiver down my spine.

Virgil had come back with both Dad and Grandma by then, and she carefully bent down to embrace me as soon as she saw my eyes were open, her curly grey hair and bright green eyes relieved and warm as she looked at my face.

"Hey… Grandma…" My voice cracked a little at the dryness, but that was easily remedied when Scott passed me the glass on the stand, helping me steady it against the trembling weakness in my left hand as I took a sip from the straw to moisten my throat. "How are you?"

"Oh, John." She sighed, rubbing her fingers over my cheek. "You're asking me if I'm alright, when you're the one who's like this! What are we going to do with you?"

I shrugged, lopsidedly, as I still, reflexively refused to move my right arm in anticipation of the pain that would result. "I don't know Grandma."

She only smiled tremulously, and kissed me on the forehead, moving slightly as there were suddenly footsteps in the hall.

"What a party we've got here." The newcomer's voice was recognisable and friendly, but the happiness I had at having my blood family together with me in one place was broken as he asked me if I wanted filling in on what had been happening.

My brain was playing tricks on me again; probably due to all the meds I currently had flooding me, but there was no stopping the desperate need to actually know what was wrong with me this time. Now that I was pretty coherent considering the circumstances, I recalled the reason I had needed to have the surgery in the first place, before all of this mess had occurred, and I knew that despite my achiness and painful body at the moment, I needed to pay attention to the best of my ability, and I would be able to ask for clarification later if anything didn't actually make sense.

Dr. Kingston's face, as always was set and calm, but the doctor accompanying him had rather a strange look on his face, like he didn't like what his colleague was going to have to say to me.

As my brothers, father and Grandmother retreated a little to the side, pleased looks now drawn and extremely tense, obviously knowing what was coming already, I came to a simple conclusion that proved that what I was going to be told wasn't something that I was going to like either.

A/N: I know that it's short, but I really tried to give us something to work with here. Any theories are welcomed. Thanks for reading all!

-Pyre Xx