Chapter 84.

Dedicated to lunalittlemiss for being so brave and amazing. Scott has a big bunch of lilies for you, but is unsure of the best way to deliver them. Overnight courier, maybe?

-x-

Gordon had never been a fan of alcohol.

It was expensive, tasted weird, and was chock-full of hidden calories.

Plus, it burned like Thunderbird One's thrusters if it got up your nose.

"Holy cow!" Kayo exclaimed, crunching across the newly formed minefield of broken glass, "Are you guys okay?"

The aftermath of the supermarket-shelf-domino-effect was nothing short of catastrophic. Twelve foot shelves lay stacked on top of one another, their contents scattered far and wide. Countless broken bottles lay on the floor of what used to be the alcohol section, their combined contents merging together to form a large, sickly smelling puddle.

A sloshing sound filtered out from underneath one of the shelves, closely followed by a pained groan.

"Sit tight, I'm coming," Kayo gabbled, ignoring her wet dress as she knelt to identify her victim, "Virgil? Are you hurt?"

The engineer shook his head and accepted the hand Kayo was offering, "No, just bruised. Scott? Grab John, would you? He's face down in Babycham and not moving."

Scott skirted around Kayo and lowered himself to the ground, squinting as he peered into the shadows cast by the felled shelves. An unmoving figure with a head of red hair was lying approximately fifteen feet in. Dropping onto his stomach, Scott began to army crawl towards his third brother, cringing as the acrid smelling cocktail adorning the floor began to seep through his shirt.

Closer inspection revealed that John was neither injured nor unconscious. Instead, he appeared to be suffering from some kind of petrification that had temporarily disabled his ability to react to his surroundings. No doubt he'd never be setting foot in a supermarket again for the rest of his natural born life.

"Where's Alan?" Scott called over his shoulder, pulling his shirt over his nose in an effort to filter the pungent air. Being in such close proximity to a blend of undiluted gins, whiskies, wines, vodkas, brandies, rums and tequilas couldn't be doing his lungs any good. Wrapping a hand around John's bicep, the eldest brother began to crawl backwards out of the crevice he'd just entered, dragging the traumatised middle brother behind him like a mop.

"He's here, don't panic," Kayo called, bending to help Scott pull John free of the wreckage he'd been trapped beneath. The redhead was drenched from head to toe in red wine and looked, in Kayo's eyes, like an oversized cranberry.

A distressed whine suddenly escaped from underneath an adjacent set of shelves. Both Scott and Virgil's eyes widened in horror, "Gordon."

After locating the aquanaut on a heat signature scan, the two eldest Tracys set about removing the shelf that was imprisoning him. Despite weighing a tonne, the combined strength of both brothers was sufficient to shift it clear of the Fish.

"Gordo?" Virgil clambered over some debris and set about examining the aquanaut, "Gordo? Can you hear me?"

Gordon nodded faintly before spasming in visible pain, "Hurts, Virg."

"Where?" the engineer asked, scanning his brother's body for any obvious injuries. His caramel eyes lingered for a tense second on the aquanaut's already savaged arm.

"Here," Gordon replied, motioning weakly towards his lower torso, "Hurts to breathe."

Virgil shared a look of alarm with Scott, who was scrambling over to the blonde's unoccupied side, "Did something land on you?"

Gordon's brandy stained face paled a couple of shades, "Don't think so. Am I bleeding?"

Scott swiftly set about exploring the proposed injury site with his hands. Gordon flinched when pressure was applied to his hip and whimpered pathetically when his eldest brother tried to roll him onto his side.

"Possible pelvic fracture," Scott muttered, "Are you feeling any numbness in any of your below-the-belt anatomy?"

The aquanaut shot his brother an evil glare before shaking his head.

"I'm a bit concerned about internal bleeding," Scott confessed, glancing briefly at Virgil, "Pelvic trauma can cause the network of arteries that line the sacrum to rupture, which can lead to long-term reproductive dysfunction."

Gordon didn't think he'd ever felt more embarrassed in his life. The only saving grace was that Penelope wasn't around to hear Scott's diagnosis.

"I'm not detecting a temperature," Virgil chipped in, resting the back of his hand against Gordon's drenched forehead, "And he seems able to focus. Where did you say it hurt again?"

Like a harassed celebrity conceding to an encore, Gordon pointed at his hip again.

Another (slightly larger) pair of hands began to prod here and there. All was going well, until Virgil hit upon the same spot that Scott had.

A painful screech and Gordon folded in half like an armadillo.

"Could be appendicitis," Virgil added, sighing when the aquanaut refused to uncurl, "Either way, something's not right with him. We should probably get him to a hospital."

In the background, a wine sodden Alan piped up, "Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

Virgil shook his head and scooped Gordon off the floor, "I'm not that concerned. So long as his temperature remains stable we should be fine. Scott, call Parker and ask him to drive you and Gordon to the nearest medical centre with an emergency room. Take John with you as well, I'm not convinced he didn't hit his head during the shelf avalanche."

"F.A.B," Scott replied, pulling out his phone and speed dialling the Grey Ninja, "Alan, you help Virgil with the food. If the birthday girl is happy to chip in, you should be able to transport everything back to Lady P in two trips."

"No need," Virgil replied, "I planned ahead and brought the pod assembly module. I'll remotely construct a cargo pod and programme it to meet us outside in fifteen minutes."

Scott smiled and squeezed his brother's shoulder in silent gratitude, "Nice work, Virgil."

"Mom? Grandma?" John groaned, blinking gin out of his eyes as he tried to focus on the hazy figures leaning over him, "How did ya'll get down here?"

Kayo sighed and began to check the redhead for any open wounds, "Yep, definitely hit his head. Who knew he was so good at accents though?"

Scott let loose a combined grunt of disagreement and exertion as he relieved Virgil's arms of the injured Gordon, "I'm afraid he's always done that. Slipping into southern fried chicken mode is pretty normal for him."

John scowled around the light Kayo was shining in his eyes.

"There's nuttin' wrong with me, git ov' yersleves ya piddlee'o thangs."

-x-

Scott swore he'd spent half his life in hospital waiting rooms.

Alan having his tonsils out, Gordon having surgery after his run-in with the Chaos Crew, John having anaphylactic shock after offending a wasp, and Virgil having an appendectomy were some of the more notable occasions.

Scott himself had never been examined for anything more than routine blood tests. Clearly, he possessed a stronger will to survive than all four of his brothers combined.

A few minutes of questioning and a quick CT scan revealed that John wasn't concussed, just moderately traumatised. Unfortunately, the redhead's frantic pining for his Thunderbird did little to dissuade Scott from ordering him to keep an eye on Gordon while he returned to check on Virgil and Alan.

"Just stay with him for a few hours," Scott placated, ignoring the way John was glowering at him, "You know he doesn't have good memories of being in hospital. Keep him distracted until the doctor gives you a diagnosis, then call me and I'll come and pick you up."

John sniffed in disapproval. The last time he'd relied on his eldest brother for a lift had been when he'd forgotten his tickets for a university hockey match nine years ago.

"Chin up, you've got this," Scott rhapsodised, patting the redhead on the shoulder, "Tell the nurses we'll settle the bill on discharge."

A brief pause followed wherein Scott looked to John for verbal confirmation. He didn't get it. The redhead was the only one in the family who could match Scott in the height department, which complicated the dominance process somewhat. Virgil often joked that Scott and John acted like a pair of lions circling each other; neither willing to make a move, but neither willing to back down. Brown versus red. Blue versus turquoise. One versus Five. Oxford versus Harvard.

"Please, John?" Scott tried again, fighting to keep the irritation out of his voice, "You can't leave here until the chief radiographer okays your CT scan anyway. It's not much to just go and sit in with your brother for a few minutes."

John felt annoyance crawl up his spine at the obvious guilt trip. Scott was trying to induce sympathy on Gordon's behalf, but John was smart enough to see through the ruse.

Unfortunately, Scott was smart enough to know that John was smart enough to see through his ruse.

"Spend some time together," the eldest brother suggested, "You two used to be really close, but you've drifted apart over the years. Maybe use this as an opportunity to reconnect. Gordon really misses you when you're up in Five, you know."

That came as a shock to John. Why on earth would Gordon miss him? He was on the line with Tracy Island twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Didn't the aquanaut know he was only a comm call away?

The little voice in his head disagreed.

'It's not the same.'

John had to admit that Scott had a point. He and Gordon had been really close when they were younger, thanks primarily to the tight (and very exclusive) bond Scott and Virgil had shared. Naturally, the somewhat lonely John had gravitated towards Gordon for company as soon as the little blond had reached talking age. They'd gone everywhere together and complimented each other's personalities well. Where Gordon was messy, John was neat. Where Gordon was loud, John was quiet. Grandma in particular had found their antics adorable and still referred to them as the 'sea-star' duo.

Then, a weird thing had happened. Alan had come along and Gordon had aligned his immaturity with that of his newest brother. As the two youngest, they'd teamed up in a mirror image of how the two eldest had teamed up. Consequently, John had found himself in the same No Man's Land that most middle children ended up occupying. Straddling two camps while belonging to neither. Destined to be neither old nor young.

Though he'd never admit it out loud, John was jealous of the bonds his earthbound siblings shared. Being up in space was great, but it afforded him the time and privacy to scrutinise their every interaction. While the elder and younger pairs had maintained their age-based partnerships, new relationships had begun to form off the back of their collective involvement with International Rescue. The shifts in dynamic had occurred subconsciously for them, but John had seen it all unfold in slow-motion. Gordon and Virgil bonding over the former's reliance on the latter for lifts, Scott and Alan with their gentle blend of parent/brother, Gordon and Scott with their shared love of swimming…what felt like natural relationship progression and evolution to them had been microanalysed by their space brother over the course of several long years.

And the star was missing the sea.

"Okay, fine," the redhead grumbled, crossing his arms.

"Atta boy," Scott beamed and went to playfully ruffle his brother's hair, "Call me if you need anything."

A flash of blue and a blast of cologne, and Scott Tracy was gone.

John sighed and stared down at his wine drenched shirt in disgust. Once, just once he'd like for his family to be normal.

Gordon's room was on the second floor, right next to one of the hospital's therapy rooms. John was able to find it quickly with a little guidance from EOS. Peering through the door, he wasn't at all surprised to see the aquanaut locked in an animated discussion with the nurse tending to him.

"Hey, Johnny!" Gordon chirped, smiling warmly as his third brother knocked and let himself in, "Glad to see you've still got your head screwed on. Tara, this is my brother, John. He's the space one I was telling you about."

Tara let her eyes sweep up and down the middle brother before inclining her head in polite approval, "Welcome to Argentina, Mr Tracy. Gordon has relayed some of your accomplishments, and I must say, it's a real honour to meet you."

John smiled in embarrassed gratitude, "Nice to meet you too, Tara. How are things with my brother?"

A clipboard was consulted, "We ran a battery of tests when he was first admitted, but nothing flagged as abnormal. My colleague got him to fill out a lifestyle questionnaire and quickly worked out that he's lactose intolerant. Is this a new diagnosis, or one your family is already aware of?"

"Already aware," John replied, bracing himself for a grim diagnosis.

Tara nodded and added to her notes, "From what we can see, he's suffering from a severe case of abdominal bloating."

John however, wasn't paying as much attention as he should have been, and only caught the word 'severe', "Oh man…how long has he got left?"

Two finely plucked eyebrows creased in confusion, "Wind, Mr Tracy. Your brother has wind that was brought about by an impromptu ice cream snack he enjoyed during your game of Trolley Wars."

"Wind!" John cried, dropping his head into his hands in despair. Scott, Virgil and Alan would be devastated to learn of their beloved brother's fate. And then there was poor Grandma. John was no fool. He knew the aquanaut was her secret favourite. Maybe they could give him a Viking funeral…or bury him at sea. Yes, that would be a fitting tribute for someone who'd devoted their life to the ocean.

Tara gave the wine stained Tracy time to compose himself.

3…

2…

1…

"Wait, wind?!" John's head snapped up so quickly his brain rattled out of place, "Wind? As in…wind?!"

Tara nodded, "Yes, Mr Tracy. Wind, flatulence, whatever you'd like to call it."

"So he's been hospitalised because of a fart?"