Chapter 5.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Gordon closed his eyes as the smell of chlorine filled his nose, the familiar scent momentarily overriding his churning stomach.
It was the Monday after the Opening Ceremony, and he was four hours away from his first race. For reasons that both baffled and unnerved him, Sam had given him the entire weekend off and had advised that he only 'paddle' prior to the race in order to safeguard his physical and psychological fitness. Every fibre in his body wanted to tear up and down the pool lanes like a madman, but Sam had informed him sternly that such behaviour was a bad way to offset his nerves.
"Go for a walk," his trainer suggested, tossing a towel at Gordon as he hauled himself out of the water, "Meditate, do yoga, listen to whale song. Just don't do anything that might end with you pulling hammy. I'm going to go and head over to the trainer's lounge for a bit."
"Do you know if any of my brothers are coming tonight?" Gordon asked, his tone insistent as he towelled his hair dry and fished a banana out of his bag, "And if the answer's yes, do you know their seat numbers?"
Sam gave a shrug that somehow managed to bridge the gap between compassion and indifference, "No clue. Haven't heard from any of them since Friday night. I'll alert you if that changes, though."
Gordon gave a wobbly nod, his stomach dropping into his feet at the thought of not having any of his family in the stands to cheer him on. Jess had promised to be there and had asked Sam directly if she could sit in the coaches' corner with him. After a silence that had exceeded the parameters of social acceptability and a look that could have wilted a cactus, Sam had agreed, but only on the express condition that she do nothing to break his concentration while Gordon was racing.
'Would all personnel please evacuate the Aquatics Centre to allow preparations for tonight's races to commence.'
Icy fear gripped Gordon's stomach as he grabbed his bag, rammed his feet into his trusty boat shoes, and followed Sam out through the reception area. He could shower when he got back to his room, if he had the spare brainpower to do so. Upon parting ways with his coach in the central courtyard, he was given the sole order of being in the changing rooms an hour before his scheduled race time of eight o'clock that evening. A simple enough request, but one that Gordon suddenly felt was well outside of his capability.
Mumbling something about 'going on that walk', Gordon watched as Sam became one with the sea of bodies milling around the compound. He had three hours to kill, and absolutely no idea what to do with himself aside from shower during that time. The nerves that had already accompanied him through countless competitions were rapidly spiralling out of control, and it was with an extra dollop of panic that Gordon realised that he probably met the criteria for being considered a flight risk.
He had zilch idea where Jess was, but that didn't concern him too much. The Opening Ceremony had acted as a social lubricant of sorts and he'd made contact with several other teenage members of Team USA over the weekend. He was fairly confident he'd be able to find at least one of them to keep him company until the clock struck seven.
Only problem was that he had no clue what anyone else's training schedules looked like, so had no way of knowing who was available and where they might be. Sticking his head into the recreation rooms, spa, cafeteria, and laundromat was his best and only option for locating a familiar face, but he wasn't sure his nerves could handle the added stress of embarking on what was essentially a map-less hunt.
Before Gordon could work himself up any further, two large hands suddenly slapped themselves across his eyes. Making the swift transition from nervous to outright panicked, he shrieked and began to jerk around like a rodeo horse, baffled as to how an unauthorised intruder had managed to get past security.
"Guess who?" came a deep voice accompanied by an achingly familiar waft of cedar cologne.
Floored by disbelief, Gordon ceased his flailing and clamped his mouth shut, as if frightened a stray breath might cause the person standing behind him to disintegrate into dust, "Virgil?"
The two hands obscuring his vision were pulled away, and upon pivoting round, Gordon was rewarded with the sight of his second eldest brother beaming at him.
A nonsensical sound tore out of Gordon's throat as he launched himself at Virgil and enveloped him in a hug that nearly popped two of the engineer's ribs clean out of alignment. After holding on to each other for the twenty seconds that John recommended, Gordon pulled away and became peppering his brother with questions.
"What are you doing here? How did you get in? Where are the others? How long are you staying for? Have you heard from Dad? Is everyone okay?"
Virgil waited patiently until his little brother had finished his conveyor belt of questions, his expression benign as he let Gordon expel some of the steam he was carrying.
"Whoa there, Bro, slow down," Virgil chuckled, resting a hand on Gordon's shoulder when the swimmer looked on the verge of flopping onto the floor, "All shall be revealed over several cups of a hot beverage of your choosing. Alan! Get your tiny butt over here, now!"
Gordon felt his adrenalin levels re-spike as he cast his gaze around for his baby brother, "Alan's here too?"
"Yep, just me and him I'm afraid," Virgil replied, marching over to where Alan was eagerly yanking up some marigolds from one of the many decorative flowerbeds adorning the courtyard, "Scott and John say that they'll be tuning in to watch your race live. We haven't been able to get hold of dad, but we did register a solar flare over the Moon Base last night, so that's probably why he hasn't been answering our calls. Alan, put those back!""
A snort travelled up Gordon's diaphragm as he stared at Alan, who was clutching a decapitated begonia and examining the dirt-encrusted roots with obvious intrigue, "Why? I'm going to give them to Gordy after he wins his race."
Virgil rolled his eyes and smiled apologetically at one of the nearby groundsmen, who was eyeballing the scene in obvious disapproval, "That's very kind of you, Alan, but I think the flowers would be much happier if you left them in the ground. If you put them back neatly, I'll let you pick out some sweets to take in with you later."
The effect was instant. Alan returned his pile of butchered flowers back to their holes, taking care to gently tuck the soil around their stems. After the last one had been reinstated, he scrambled to his feet and blinked expectantly up at Virgil.
"After we've caught up with Gordon," Virgil added, ignoring Alan's wail of disappointment, "Besides, you need to wash your hands first."
Gordon laughed and motioned for Virgil and Alan to follow him. The comfort of having two of his brothers on-site was already laying waste to the nerves that had been ravaging him mere minutes ago, and it was with a suitable amount of humility that he was reminded of how lucky he was to have such a supportive family.
Alan's feelings appeared to be the polar opposite, for it was with an air of tragedy that he slouched after his older brothers, his feet dragging as if he were walking through cement, "I hate you both."
A sharp retort danced on the tip of Gordon's tongue, but was quashed as they entered the welcome shade of his apartment lobby. Virgil was just about to hand Alan's visitor pass over to the receptionist, when a blur of blue and blond shot past.
"Gordo!" Jess chirped, her hair scraped into a messy bun, "Nerves kicking in yet?"
"Kind of," Gordon replied, determined to keep his inner meltdown a secret, "Where are you off to?"
"Training," Jess replied, taking a swig from her water container, "I'm trying to finish everything early so that I've got the entire evening free to watch you. Has Sam said anything about reserving me a seat in the coach's corner, or am I going to have to sit on the floor? Also, is it possible to get a verruca on your butt?"
Gordon snorted a laugh and opened his mouth to reply, however was beaten by Virgil.
"I have a spare ticket if you need one?" the engineer offered, signing the guest register that the receptionist had given him, "It was originally for my brother, but he's tied up with work. I was going to exchange it at the ticket booth and donate the money, but you're welcome to it if you want. And verruca's can spread to any part of the body, so yes, you could technically end up with one on your butt."
Jess looked nothing short of horrified, her hands instantly flying to her backside as if somehow hoping to protect it.
"These are my brothers," Gordon elaborated, aware that introductions had yet to be made, "Virgil, this is Jess. Jess, this is Virgil. Alan, this is Jess. Jess, this is Alan. And I'm Gordon, if anyone cares."
"Nice to meet you, Jess," Virgil greeted, extending a hand and deploying his trademark smile, "You're a swimmer as well?"
Jess shook her head and accepted the outstretched hand, "Show jumping, although I could probably give Gordon a run for his money. I was originally shortlisted for the water polo team, but had to turn the position down when my horse drowned."
Virgil let loose a laugh that had the ever overdramatic Alan covering his ears, "How tragically unfortunate. Anyway, the ticket is yours if you want it."
"I don't want to take way from charity," Jess countered, her expression uncertain, "A verruca to the butt is a small price to pay compared to someone who hasn't had a decent meal in a week."
A dismissive hand was waved, "I'll donate the money regardless, so you won't be contributing to world poverty or anything. I can't guarantee that it'll be a pleasant experience though. Alan here tends to get grouchy when he's bored."
Almost on cue, Alan pattered over and began a haka-like chant for sweets, complete with rhythmic shouting and foot stomps.
"You'll have to start those hot beverages without me," Virgil sighed, rewarding Alan's ritualistic behaviour with a few small steps towards the door, "He won't settle until he's got something to stuff in his mouth. Can you drink caffeine this close to a race?"
Gordon tilted his head and frowned, "I had a blood test done this morning, but probably shouldn't risk it. Sam say's it's a legal performance booster, but it's come under review a couple of times in the last four years."
"Gotcha, three cherry juices it is then," Virgil replied, putting up minimal resistance as Alan grabbed his sleeve and began hauling for all he was worth, "We'll be up in about fifteen minutes. Which number is your room again?"
"Seventy-seven," Gordon replied, "Bring back some almond milk as well, would you? Someone's been pillaging mine."
Jess averted her gaze and was suddenly entranced by a loose carpet fibre.
"F.A.B," Virgil yelled, his attention shifting to the flock of speckled pigeons their youngest brother was cannonballing into the middle of, "Alan! For goodness sake, heel!"
A beat of silence passed as Gordon watched both his brothers disappear out of sight, realising a second too late that he'd forgotten to add a fresh bottle of shampoo to his list of demands.
"He's cute," Jess remarked, her eyebrows rising in approval as she signed out and headed towards the door.
Gordon scoffed, feigning indifference, "I guess. If you like the 'all beef and no brains' kind of guy."
"I was talking about Alan."
-x-
Virgil Tracy was an evil genius.
The absolute evilest of geniuses.
After returning from the convenience store with Alan, a bag of marshmallows, and two packets of rock candy in tow, he'd unclipped the leash and allowed the youngest to saturate himself with as many sweets as his stomach could physically hold.
One and a half hours later, and Alan was flopped face down on Gordon's bed and riding a sugar crash that could have rivalled Everest in its steepness.
Gordon had to give his brother credit. They'd both watched Scott deal with tears, snot, and copious screaming on the few occasions when their eldest brother had denied Alan the object of his desire. Virgil's decision to do the polar opposite was an excellent bit of reverse psychology, and had paid a healthy dividend. Five minutes into demolishing his packet of marshmallows (and refusing to share when Gordon had asked for one), and Alan had made the announcement that they weren't as yummy as he'd thought.
Fifteen minutes later, he'd complained of feeling sick.
Ten minutes after that, he'd curled up for a nap, and hadn't stirred since.
As for Virgil, he now had a quiet and pliant child on his hands. A stark contrast to the living tornado Scott had been stuck with the last time he'd foolishly taken Alan on a supply run.
"Nervous yet?" Virgil asked, sipping his cherry juice and barely blinking when Alan began spooning Gordon's pillow, "You look pale."
"I'm fine," Gordon replied, trying to avoid looking at both the clock and Virgil's wristwatch, "I really should shower, but I suppose it won't make a difference if I'm just going to get back in the pool again. Are you staying the night, or will you fly back once I'm done?"
Virgil tilted his head and set his glass back on the table, "I think Scott would prefer for us to return sooner rather than later, but I'll see what he says. It would be nice to catch a night's sleep before making the flight home."
Gordon nodded, trying not to let his disappointment show. He was free after his race and had hoped that Virgil would agree to stay for a bit so that they could spend some time together. He had Jess for dinner, but it would be a lonely night after curfew kicked in.
And he was still none the wiser about his other teammate's schedules.
"It's six-thirty," Virgil announced, nodding at Gordon's bedside clock and draining the last of his cherry juice, "You need to get a wriggle on if you want to be down at the changing rooms for the pre-race talk Sam will no doubt have ready and waiting for you."
Almost on cue, a soft knock sounded at the door.
"Gordo?" came Jess's voice, "Everything okay? They're allowing spectator entry into the Aquatics Centre now."
As Gordon fought against an almost irrepressible urge to vomit, Virgil roused Alan and handed him his ticket, "Don't you dare chew on that, otherwise you'll have to wait on your own in Thunderbird Two for the evening."
Gordon didn't need to ask Virgil for a backstory to his comment. Their youngest brother still hadn't grown out of the habit of putting things in his mouth when he was bored. Every member of the family had heard about the 'incident' from last month where he'd chewed a classified mission report of Scott's that had been destined for Captain Casey's eyes only.
The scream from brother numéro uno had been nothing short of epic, adding a layer of literalness to the claim that the entire family (including John, who'd been in Guatemala at the time), had heard about the incident.
"How about I walk down with Jess and give you some space?" Virgil suggested, his forehead creasing in sympathy as he watched Gordon drop his head into his hands and take several deep, shuddering breaths, "I think being alone will help you get back into the zone. Oh, I picked you up a fresh packet of Gluco-Chews while I was at the store. Shall I leave them in your bag?"
A nonsensical groan was offered, closely followed by a very loud and shaky exhale.
Jess, who'd poked her head around the door, winced in sympathy when she caught sight of Gordon's hunched back, "That'll be me this time tomorrow. How close to the front are our seats?"
Virgil checked his own ticket while plucking Alan's free from his sticky fingers, "C17 through to C19, so I'm guessing the third row in, which doesn't sound too bad. Come on Alan, upsy-daisy!"
A few seconds of shuffling ensued as Virgil hoisted the practically hypoglycaemic Alan onto his feet and ushered him out the door.
"Gordon?"
Silence.
"We're proud of you."