Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds.

Drabble challenge from scribeofred: "when did that happen?" with Scott.

Scott knew that sometimes, adrenaline spikes could hide things. More than sometimes - it was pretty frequent, at least for them and their vocation. Cuts, scrapes, even broken bones could sometimes go unmissed until adrenaline wore off and the pain set in.

For his part, there was a twinge in his left arm, not far above his elbow, that was starting to make itself known. It was just a twinge, so he ignored it; twinges didn't affect flying and he wanted to get home and clean up before the next callout, whenever that would be.

He should really have learnt by now. It was a solo mission, nothing too extravagant and certainly nothing that had needed Thunderbird Two, which meant there was no Virgil aggressively fussing over the slightest scrapes for fear of invasive bodies and infections, and Scott didn't bother to check himself over, either. Why should he? He didn't remember anything happening; the twinge was probably just a tired muscle. Nothing new. Certainly nothing to worry about.

At least, not until he was approximately two-thirds of the way home, happily tearing through the air well above the Pacific, and his vision blurred. No warning, no reason. Travelling at a solid Mach 16, Scott knew better than to push his luck and instantly engaged autopilot. Vision issues were an absolute no when flying.

Time for a self-assessment to figure out what exactly was going on. There was still no pain, or other symptoms of concern beyond his vision fuzzing in and out of focus, but that twinge in his arm was still present, and Scott's gut led him to explore it tentatively with his fingers.

Ow.

Now it hurt. He glanced down and blanched. The 'twinge' - which, now he was properly aware of it, was way worse than just a twinge - seemed to be coming from a tear in his uniform. A somewhat bloody one, although not enough to be dripping. Protruding from it was a wicked-looking barb that looked like it might be from some sort of plant, although it was unnervingly large.

"When did that happen?" he wondered out loud, pushing himself to his feet to get the tweezers from the medical kit. He hadn't seen any thorned plants around during the rescue, although admittedly the foliage hadn't been high on his list of things to pay attention to.

His vision blurred again at the movement, and a rush of light-headedness made his head spin as he stumbled to the bottom of the hull. Below him, through the viewing window, the blue-green of the ocean rushed past.

The locker he needed was out of reach unless he stood back up, but attempts to find his feet were met with failure as his vision faded in and out. His arm burned, and he resorted to trying to yank the barb out with his fingers to no avail. It was too deep for his fingers to get a decent purchase.

Tweezers. He needed tweezers. Unable to stand up, he resorted to crawling along the fuselage, aware in the back of his head that Thunderbird One's autopilot would land her in her silo if he didn't override it, and that if he wasn't secure in his pilot chair again by the time they got home there was a painful tumble down the entire length of his 'bird waiting for him.

He had to move fast, or at least scramble back into his seat so that didn't happen. Mach 16 was nothing to scoff at; they'd be back very soon. His body didn't seem to get the memo - vision insisted on continuing to fluctuate, with light-headedness dancing through him every time he moved too quickly, and through it all his arm was loudly reminding him that there was something sharp stuck in it.

Considering the lack of blood loss, Scott suspected the something sharp was also toxic. Either that, or something else was causing the dizziness and encroaching blackouts.

It needed to come out but he could barely see. Could barely move, and that was the bigger issue because he could navigate inside his 'bird with his eyes closed.

Through the hull, he felt the shudder of the engine changing speed, and his stomach dropped. Thunderbird One was decelerating, which meant they were almost home, and if he didn't get back in his seat the thing in his arm was going to be the least of his troubles.

But his vision was all gone now, his head felt lighter than ever and he-

He couldn't.

Thanks for reading!
Tsari