Chapter 103.

"Target located."

Alan resisted the urge to somersault his eyeballs at John's dramatization of the situation. So they'd managed to track Scott and Kayo to the town's ice rink and were blocking the only available exit. Big whoop.

Except it was a big whoop. To John and Virgil, it was the biggest whoop that ever whooped.

"Cover me," Virgil instructed, his expression deadly as he knelt to secure a pair of skates to his feet, "Gordo, you and Celery stay here. One fall on that ice and your back will be out for months."

The disappointment on Gordon's face as he froze in the middle of lacing up his own skates was downright heart-breaking.

"Here," John sighed, wobbling his way over to his younger brother and extending a hand, "Take my bank card and go and spoil yourself. Just don't do anything that might result in another hospital visit."

Both Virgil and Alan shared a wide-eyed look of astonishment. Aside from Scott, John was easily the most frugal of the family. He guarded his money like a five figure Doberman, and was hideously stingy when it came to Christmas and birthday gifts. Kayo still hadn't fully gotten over the egg timer he'd bought for her three years ago.

Still, like the rest of his brothers, the redhead was a softy at heart. Gordon had outperformed most of his peers at their school's roller disco when he was thirteen, so would no doubt take to ice skating like a duck to water. Coupled with his natural enthusiasm for trying new things, it was no wonder the aquanaut looked on the verge of tears as he kicked off his skates, grabbed Celery and stood back to allow his brothers to pass.

Thankfully, the tantalising smell of hot chocolate was enough to drag the fourth Tracy out of his momentary slump. If John was footing the bill, he might even treat himself to a sleigh ride around the town.

A pattering noise akin to a cat scrabbling across a tiled floor announced John's transition from land to ice. Laughter bubbled up Gordon's throat when the redhead came dangerously close to doing the splits.

"Zip it!" John bellowed, lunging for the safety rails as his legs zig-zagged beneath him, "Virgil, don't let them out of your sight."

Thankfully, Virgil's own transition from land to ice was slightly less violent. A couple of experimental forward pushes (and a stumble thrown in for good measure), and the engineer was gliding like a swan.

A space-themed expletive tore out of John as his legs gave way again, and it was with an air of noble desperation that he switched from gripping the safety rail to hugging it. Gordon quirked a brow, his own memory of clinging to Thunderbird One's launch platform suddenly resurfacing.

Years of skate and astroboarding experience meant that, like Virgil, Alan also took to the ice fairly easily. While he lacked Virgil's low centre of gravity, his slight frame meant that his risk of overbalancing was marginally lower.

Gordon meanwhile, was having a field day observing John and his criss-crossed legs, "You alright there, bro?"

"Peachy," the redhead snapped, inching his way along the railing, "Why don't you bugger off and make yourself scarce? Live commentary is neither needed nor appreciated, thank you very much."

Gordon quacked at his brother's blatant rudeness, but capitulated and began to saunter towards a stall selling snow cones, "Alright, alright, chillax already. You won't have to look at this devilishly handsome face any longer. C'mon Celery, let's go and blow some of Uncle Johnny's cash."

In a combined act of bravery and inspiring stupidity, John lifted a hand to give Gordon the finger, weaning his grip off the railings to do so. A wayward left skate, coupled with an innate fear of gravity and an impressive half backflip, and the middle brother found himself splattered on his back.

Gordon had enough decency to wince, but not enough to promise to stay within the confines of his ginger brother's credit limit.

"Handsome my ass," John coughed, his head swimming as he tried to lever himself into a sitting position, "You were so ugly when you were born the doctor threw you out the window. Too bad the window threw you back."

Gordon didn't break pace, his attention preoccupied with a pile of hideously expensive reindeer rugs that he absolutely didn't need, but would probably buy anyway, "Jealousy isn't pretty on a girl, bro."

Celery yelped as an ice-skate was lobbed at Gordon's head.

"Whoa, Johnny!" the aquanaut drawled, his brother's impulsive violence flying clean over his head (both figuratively and literally), "Seriously bro, you don't wear jealousy well. I know it must suck to be all on your ginger lonesome, but I know, deep down, that when you see this face, there isn't a thing you'd change."

An incisor was bared.

"Yeah, except the direction I was walking in."

-x-

Gordon was a loyal soul.

True, he was also kind, selfless, in possession of a face that was perfectly symmetrical, courageous, and funny, but loyalty was a trait he assigned both personal and professional value to.

He was faultlessly loyal to Thunderbird Four, and didn't hesitate to put his brothers in their places if any of them dared to poke fun at the little yellow sub's size. He was loyal to little Celery, despite her deformities, and had defended her doggy honour from one too many snooty (and overpriced) veterinarians. He was also loyal to the Pendergasts,though the jury was still out over whether this was down to their shared experiences on Europa, or his obsession with their show.

It went without saying that he was also fiercely loyal to his brothers, though the origin of this loyalty was, rather interestingly, not innate, but taught. Growing up with four siblings while constantly jockeying for position had been no mean feat, and Gordon's ability to suppress the worst of his brotherly jealousy was the result of years of training.

Thankfully, he'd had a great teacher.

The aquanaut felt a seed of guilt take root in his stomach as he sauntered away from the ice rink, Celery on his heels. While he was willing to admit that Scott had done wrong, and even more willing to admit that he needed to pay for said wrongdoing, memories of the lessons his biggest brother had taught him about loyalty and its importance were beginning to nag at him. The ongoing drought of rescue work was getting to all of them, but was it worth brother turning on brother?

Gordon felt himself slip into a daydream as a memory began to surface.

-x-

Gordon Cooper Tracy was the mummy's boy of the family.

While Scott, Virgil, and John all gravitated towards their father in terms of educational attainment and career aspirations, Gordon had broken the mould and taken after their mother. He showed no interest in spending his weekends and school holidays geeking out at aerospace museums like his older brothers, opting instead to help Lucy with caring for the horses at Gran Roca. When there were no more haynets to fill or ponies to pet, the little blonde was quite content to curl up on the sofa with a bowl of cereal and his own thoughts for company.

Lucy, of course, was delighted by the free help. Alongside her own horse, the rest of the boys, Kayo, and Jeff also had mounts of their own. Seven equines to exercise, feed, and clean was a full-time occupation, especially with the boys being away with their dad most weekends.

Thankfully, one of them got the memo.

Gordon mimicked his mother's love of animals effortlessly. He relished any time spent in the company of something furry and never complained about having to help look after his brother's pets. He came into his own managing each horse's specific needs, and was quick to gush about their respective idiosyncrasies to anyone who would listen. He loved looking after Sarge, the black Thoroughbred who had pledged allegiance to Scott, though he was also soft on Tomahawk, the burly appaloosa who belonged to Virgil. He could take or leave Hector, John's snooty chestnut Arabian, and had all the time in the world for his own Equus Caballus, a little bay mustang named Biscuit (who also worked as a part-time professional lawnmower).

Alan's arrival had shaken the foundation of Gordon's world, and the rest of the family knew the fourth brother bore a grudge against the youngest for stealing away Lucy's attention. Still, his predicament was hardly unique. Scott had gone through a similar thing with Virgil, then Virgil with John, then John with Gordon, and then Gordon with Alan. It was part and parcel of being one of five.

Then Lucy vanished.

Gordon was confused. His brothers suddenly wouldn't stop crying. His daddy suddenly started working longer hours than usual. Half the horses on the ranch suddenly got sold, including Minstrel, his mummy's beloved palomino.

While Gordon was too young to fully comprehend the emotional trauma of their mother's absence, Scott, Virgil and John bore the full brunt of it. Unable to cope with the stress of being a new caregiver and his own emotional turbulence, Scott quickly resorted to using junk food as a remedy for Gordon's disorientation. Alan was mellow so long as his sleep schedule remained unchanged, but Gordon was a different matter.

He asked questions.

He went looking for evidence.

He asked questions.

He poked and prodded.

He asked questions.

He insisted on setting the table for six people instead of five.

He asked questions.

He made a 'Welcome Home' card.

And he asked so many questions.

Weeks went by. Then months. The card remained unopened. Minstrel's stable was taken over by Ninja, Kayo's new horse. Virgil slowly stopped crying. Jeff upped his work hours. John started high school. Gordon kept asking questions. Scott kept buying cake.

It was heart-breaking to witness. A broken Scott, trying desperately to fill the void left by his only full-time parent, supported by two grief-stricken brothers while clumsily raising two others (one of whom was having his emotional needs met with sugary treats instead of cuddles and age-appropriate explanations). Gordon's questions of his mummy's whereabouts continued to be met with slices of cake and bowls of ice cream, and despite intense metabolic resistance, his waistline began to buckle under the onslaught of food Scott continued to force down his throat as 'therapy'.

It was John who delicately suggested a trip to the doctor when Gordon complained that he could no longer fit into most of his clothes. Scott muttered something about an impromptu growth spurt. Virgil muttered something about a horizontal growth spurt instead of a vertical one. John muttered something about everyone muttering.

The doctor was swift in her diagnosis; obesity brought about by overeating and lack of physical activity.

Scott blamed himself and broke down. He'd never be able to continue his iR training, manage his school timetable and help Gordon lose weight. He simply didn't have the time or brain power to turn a chore that drove many adults to the brink into something engaging and child friendly.

He'd failed in his duty as a caregiver before he'd even started.

Thankfully, John had the presence of mind to call upon a resource already at their disposal.

"We have a pool, you know."