Apologies for a delayed chapter - real life went a touch crazy!
Thanks again for all the support!
Icy water jerked him back to consciousness.
He instinctively swallowed, went under and came up coughing. The river buffeted him one way, then the other. One second he could see the building imprisoning his brother; then he couldn't; then he spun back and it was further away. The river was fast-flowing and Gordon was still trying to ease his breathing when the building disappeared completely.
The river was deep and strong, and he was weak. But he refused to panic: it would kill him faster than the cold water. This was his element and while he never underestimated the power of water, he respected it enough to know what he should and shouldn't do. It wasn't just having spent over half his life in the water: International Rescue had trained him in this exact type of situation. It wasn't usually him who needed help though.
He focused on keeping his head up, reaching for anything overhanging the river. He couldn't get a grip; branches were torn from his grasp, leaving his hands scratched and bloody.
The cold started to seep into him, making his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Hypothermia would finish him off if the water didn't kill him. He fought to keep his head clear, trying to make his way to the bank. They were steep, but the water was calmer there and he'd at least be able to keep his head up if he could get to the shallows. He refused to think of anything else, knowing he was finished if he panicked.
It was hard though. Harder than training had implied; harder than he remembered from his accident, although admittedly most of that was a haze he refused to focus on. He had drowned before, and lived. He didn't want to repeat the experience. But his struggles were getting weaker, pain lancing through his back as the muscles protested the constant strain. Refusing to panic was all very well and good, but it was finding gaps to slip into his mind anyway.
It was luck that saved him. The same luck that followed him his entire life. He didn't see the boulder before his back slammed into it. The water was already dragging him away but Gordon fought back, twisting until he could kick off, aiming towards the next rock sticking up. It gave him the momentum he'd lacked up until now and he was able to control his direction. The water was numbing the sting but he could feel he was bleeding from several places and figured no longer feeling the cold wasn't the relief he wanted it to be.
He hit the rock. The river tried to tear him off but Gordon grabbed hold, feeling himself slip but refusing to let go. He scrambled up, going as high as he could before slumping against the – thankfully dry – rock. His legs were still submerged but his upper body was clear of the water and the dryness of the stone told him he was safe.
He couldn't catch his breath and keeping his eyes open took more strength than he had left. His mind was on overdrive, telling him he had to get out the water, get warm and dry, call for help, get Virgil out…
But his body refused all of the above. His energy was spent, his strength gone. He slumped further, feeling the fight draining away. It took all he had to hope that the others had already guessed something was wrong and were on their way.
"Find me," he whispered and lost the fight to keep his eyes open as he passed out.
TBTBTB
Scott brought his 'bird into land, barely paying attention to what he was doing. His focus was on Thunderbird Two. They had contacted their local agents and Scott knew they were the ones who had set up a perimeter around the 'bird, keeping local authorities back.
He should have been relieved the authorities were there. But they had found nothing and – in Scott's opinion – were not even trying. They were standing around, gaping as Thunderbird One landed. They shouldn't be here; they should be combing the forest, looking for his brothers and whoever had done this. From the reports John had picked up on the way over, half of the original team had already left, declaring there was nothing in the forest. Underpaid and understaffed, they didn't care enough. It was time for them to go and the experts to take over.
He glanced at the video monitor. His 'bird was fast but not designed for passengers and his brothers looked uncomfortable. But with Two already gone, the jet was the only other thing that could take all three comfortably and it had been a unanimous decision that Tracy One was too slow. They hadn't complained but Scott knew they would be glad to stretch their legs.
He touched down and cut the engines, unfastening his harness even as the engines were still powering down.
"It's IR business only until we get rid of the locals," he said as he stood up. His brothers scrambled up, stretching. "We don't know if we can trust them."
He shouldn't have been so suspicious, but someone had taken his brothers and he didn't trust anyone. He didn't want anyone not directly connected to International Rescue to be around.
His brothers nodded. John gave him a look though, indicating he knew what Scott was thinking and thought he was being paranoid. He ignoring it, opening the doors and jumping down, squelching in the mud. To the east was the lake where Gordon had rescued the facility, and to the west stretched the forest. His previous viewpoint from the air had revealed it covered a vast expanse, with a river winding through it.
He took a step forward and a hand touched his arm.
"I'll handle them," John said. Scott nodded, letting his brother precede him. John had the most experience dealing with the authorities and was less likely to insult the entire force, lose his temper and land himself in trouble. Patience wasn't Scott's virtue on the best of days, let alone with two brothers missing.
Scott glanced skyward. The afternoon was drawing on and he hated how long they had delayed already. He ignored the faint pounding in his head and turned to Alan.
"Check Two," he ordered.
Alan looked as if he would argue but Scott jerked his head and he went without a word. Scott checked John's position and stepped towards the forest, pulling out a hand-held GPS and checking the co-ordinates. Both the watches had stopped moving, thankfully only a few metres from each other.
He needed to get in there. They had told the authorities the co-ordinates but they still claimed they hadn't found anything.
"Hey."
He glanced at John as his brother approached him. The police were starting to move out and Scott nodded approvingly, glad John had dealt with them.
"What did they say?" he asked and John shrugged helplessly.
"They went to the co-ordinates but said nothing was there and there weren't any tracks."
Scott shook his head. "Useless," he muttered. Neither of them moved even when Alan came back, confirming Two was secure. They waited until the police had disappeared and told the agents to continue to monitor the area. Then Scott led the way to Thunderbird Two himself. Opening the pod, he gestured towards the quad bikes.
"Let's go get them."
They secured the pod after themselves and Scott fixed the GPS to his handlebars. By unspoken consent, they stopped at the edge of the forest, sharing looks.
"We might have a position," Scott said, his voice terse, "but we still don't know what happened or what we're walking in on. Stay close, stay in contact and take no chances, understand?"
"F.A.B," Alan said and John nodded.
Kicking his bike into life, Scott rode into the forest. He followed the path for as long as he could before the GPS led him deeper into the undergrowth. The atmosphere was close and he knew it wasn't just the weather. Every time a branch snapped, Alan flinched and John's face was pale.
He followed the GPS until it told him he was mere feet from his brothers. He stopped the bike, got off and pushed through the undergrowth blocking his way.
Then he froze.
There was nothing there; certainly no sign of his brothers. Instead, he was on the edge of the river. It meandered through this part of the forest, making wide sweeps. The banks were long and shallow and he swallowed hard, looking down.
Gordon should have been next to him. Instead, something glinted in the water, nestled between two rocks and Scott plucked his brother's watch from the river.
John splashed past him, stopping a few paces along and bent down. Scott didn't need to ask: he had found Virgil's watch.
They had been following the wrong path this entire time.
"Useless!" Scott yelled, throwing the GPS as hard as he could. It landed in the river with a splash but he didn't notice.
"Is now," John muttered.
Scott whipped around, staring at the forest.
"We need to search for a trail," he said, wondering if he had misjudged the authorities after all. They had spoken the truth when they said there was nothing at the co-ordinates. No wonder they hadn't found anything: they were looking for people, not watches, and didn't have the manpower to be searching for items so small. Not waiting for the others, he plunged back into the forest, aware of John following him but Alan walking upstream, his head bowed.
He had no comfort to offer his brother, not this time. He had no idea if they were on the right track, even in the right part of the forest. All he could hope was that the bikes hadn't obliterated any remaining tracks.
He started searching, pushing aside branches. He didn't know what he was looking for: didn't know if there was anything to find. All he could think about was Virgil's last contact before he had cut the line and the fear obvious in his brother's voice as he begged Scott to come.
He had taken too long…
"Over here!"
Ignoring the bike, he ran to John's side. His brother was crouched, peering at something in his hand. Scott dropped to his haunches next to him and John mutely passed it over. It was a dart, no longer than his little finger, but there was no denying the smear of dried blood on it. John gestured and Scott saw there were several littering the ground.
"There's no tracks," John said flatly. "Or they've covered them. I-,"
He trailed off and Scott put a hand on his brother's shoulder. John relied on technology – searching for clues like this was not his strong point and Scott felt the tension running through him.
"They were here though," Scott said. "This is where it happened. Go back to Two: use the computers, triangulate this entire area, calculate the river speed and how far the watches could have travelled in the time since last contact. Al and I will look for anything else here to help give us a direction."
John straightened up, looking Scott straight in the eye.
"What if we don't find them?"
John had always been the realistic one, even if it bordered on pessimism. But Scott shook his head.
"Not an option," he said. It was enough for John though, who took a deep breath and visibly pulled himself together.
"They need you," Scott murmured, "I need you."
"F.A.B." John lifted his head and Scott squeezed his brother's shoulder before dropping his hand. John might not be in the field as much as the rest of them, but he was the man who talked them through uncertainty day after day. Scott wasn't lying: he needed John's focus right now.
John swung his leg over his bike. But before he started the engine, Alan's scream came through both their watches – and Scott was certain he heard it without technology. John kicked the engine into life and Scott jumped on the back. They tore through the forest with Scott shouting directions in John's ear over the roar of the bike.
They found Alan's bike, discarded at the edge of the undergrowth. Scott leapt off while John was still moving, shoving past low hanging branches until he saw Alan. He thought his brother was standing at the river bank, then realised he was actually in the water. He called him and Alan turned, the fear on his face making Scott speed up.
He grabbed Alan's arm, jerking him back out of the water and dragged him a few paces onto the bank. Alan shoved him away, breaking free of the hold.
"Look," he whispered, hand trembling as he pointed.
Scott looked.
Then he moved.
Tearing his jacket off, he kicked off his boots and dove into the river, hearing John's surprised shout behind him as he arrived at the river bank. He didn't think about the strength of the current or how deep the river was. All he could think of was reaching a cluster of boulders near the far bank and the figure slumped over them.
A figure that looked remarkably like Gordon.
It was a fight to stop the current pulling him downstream, but he didn't look away from the rocks and the focus helped him to gradually move closer. He was almost dashed against them himself but circling around put him in calmer water and he was able to stand. Hooking his hands under the person's shoulders, Scott heaved them over and his heart skipped a beat.
It was Gordon.
And he was too cold for Scott to be able to feel if he had a pulse or not.
The water took most of his brother's weight and head lolled limply, not stirring when Scott called his name. Resting the back of his hand against his brother's cheek in a rare display of affection, Scott shook him again.
"Wake up," he implored, "please."
There was no reaction. Scott knew there wouldn't be: Gordon was too cold.
"Sorry, buddy," he muttered, tipping Gordon back and wrapping an arm around his chest. "I'll be quick."
He didn't want to let Gordon enter the water again. But it was the only way back to the others and he couldn't delay trying to find another crossing point. He kicked off hard from the boulder, but the current immediately snatched at them and Scott spent more time ensuring he didn't lose his grip on his brother than making progress across the river.
"Scott! Take the rope!"
Said rope splashed only an arm's length from him and Scott lunged for it, wrapping it around his forearm. Once secure, he tugged.
"Pull!"
He kicked hard. His brothers' combined strength did what he couldn't on his own and he finally started moving in the right direction. It felt like both no time and an age before hands were reaching down to them. He surrendered Gordon to John, hearing his brother swear in a multitude of languages even as he took Alan's hand, letting his brother help him scramble up the bank.
John already had his own jacket off and wrapped around Gordon by the time Scott pulled his boots on.
"He's breathing," he said, relief obvious in his voice even as he kept Gordon close, trying to warm him up.
"Use mine," Scott said, picking up his discarded jacket and tossing it at John. His brother shook his head.
"You need -,"
Scott didn't let him finish. He dropped to his knees, wrapping his own jacket around Gordon as well. Alan hovered over them, his face pale and eyes wide. Scott grasped Gordon's wrist, needing the reassurance himself and breathed a little easier when he felt the erratic pulse. He was alive.
"Back to Two," Scott said. He helped John get Gordon on his bike, ordering him back to the 'birds as fast as he could. Scott watched them go, then turned back to the river.
"Where are you, Virg?" he muttered, staring upstream, half-hoping to suddenly spot Virgil, half-terrified of that exact thing. He didn't notice he was shivering himself and ignored Alan asking if he was coming, instead staring, unblinking, up the river.
It was only John making contact, demanding to know where they were, that made him turn away. He couldn't see Virgil and knew he was no good to his brother unless he changed into something dry. He had to make sure Gordon was safe and come up with a new plan, but it still cost him to turn away from the water.
"Hold on," he muttered, "I'm coming."
Alan pretended not to hear him, dropping him off at his own bike before they both headed towards the 'birds. It wasted precious time, but they could hardly leave the equipment lying around when they knew there were unsavoury people in the forest.
Scott kept an eye on the treeline as they moved back to Two. He couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched and was more than aware that whoever was out here was skilled – they wouldn't have been able to take down two highly trained members of International Rescue - one with a military background - otherwise. He was lucky he made it back without flipping the bike between scanning the trees and watching Alan closely, but the forest eventually fell away and the 'birds came into view.
The authorities had left, the agents too. Scott knew why: they were hired as intelligence, the eyes and ears of International Rescue. They weren't trained for kidnappings. Instead, they would accompany the authorities back and ensure this was kept quiet and no media outlets realised International Rescue was involved in a situation.
They pushed the bikes into the pod.
"Get these secured," he told Alan. He continued to move, needing to check on Gordon, but he wanted to know the situation before he let Alan in. If it was the only thing he could do to protect any of his younger siblings, then he would do it.
John had Gordon in one of the beds, a thermal blanket over him. He was busy taking Gordon's blood pressure when Scott walked in. He stayed out of the way, absently tucking the blanket further around his brother. There was a vivid rope burn around Gordon's exposed wrist and Scott leant forward, brushing Gordon's hair back and feeling his temperature for himself.
"I hope you gave them hell, kid," he murmured before looking at John. "What do we know?"
"He's cold," John said, "but breathing and has a pulse. I'll get some blood drawn and send the results to Brains."
Scott nodded. He gave Gordon a long look before standing up. "Get him home. Al can take One; you fly Two. Get him back to the island as fast as possible."
"What're you doing?" John asked suspiciously, putting the arm cuff down to one side and fixing his full attention on Scott. Scott shrugged.
"Virgil's still out there," he said. "I'm going to find him."
He didn't think the matter needed further discussion. But as he stepped towards the door, John grabbed his arm. Scott turned and was taken aback by the wild panic in John's eyes. This was the man who could talk them through a volcano erupting without wincing but right now, he looked more freaked than Scott remembered seeing him before.
"You can't go alone."
"You need to get Gords home. We need the 'birds secure. I have to go."
"They'll kill you."
"There's no one there." Scott knew it was a lie. He had felt a hostile gaze on them as they left the forest and was even sure he had seen movement. Their activities had clearly drawn attention and his instinct told him it was the same people who had taken their brothers. Tracking them down might be easier than finding Virgil and would give him the answers he needed.
"Virgil could be miles away," John protested. "Gordon was in that river for a while, and who knows how long it is. You can't search the entire thing."
"The sooner I start, the better then," Scott said, shrugging off John's grip. "They're out there, John. The men who did this to our brothers: they're in the forest now. I have to find them – I have to find Virgil."
"They'll kill you." There was the utmost certainty in John's tone and Scott knew his brother's stubbornness.
"They won't-,"
"They'll either take you as well, or they'll know you're looking for Virg and they'll kill you to stop you finding answers."
John was right – as much as Scott didn't want to admit it. If the men were in the forest, if they had been watching them, they'd make sure there were no loose ends.
But it didn't matter. He had to find Virgil.
He changed tack, his voice hardening. "Get Gordon home," he ordered, speaking as John's field commander rather than his brother. "Look after him. I'm going after Virgil."
His tone worked. John glared at him but didn't argue and the panic faded from his eyes, replaced by cold determination.
"Fine," he said, his tone indicating he wasn't happy but that he would do as he was told. Scott tried not to react; he thought it would have been harder than that.
"Just help me settle Gords first? And you can tell Alan."
He couldn't argue against that one. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he watched as John retook Gordon's blood pressure and checked his temperature and heart-rate again. Connecting through to Alan, Scott instructed his brother to take One home. He had to pull rank again and Alan made his feelings known, but he eventually agreed with the promise that Two would be right behind him. Scott carefully avoided mentioning he wouldn't be on board.
"We're good here," John suddenly said. Scott stood up, smiling at him. He was used to relying on John, leaning on him in a way he didn't with the others. Sometimes he forgot his brother looked to him for reassurance as much as Alan when times were hard.
"I'll be home with Virg before you know it," Scott reassured him. John raised an eyebrow even as they heard Thunderbird One taking off.
"You've got no transport."
"You're planning on just staying at home then?" Scott smirked as John flushed. He might want to get Gordon home but John wouldn't plan on staying there.
"Then… good luck." John held out his hand. Surprised, Scott took it.
His brother moved faster than he anticipated.
One second, he was standing. The next, there was a restraint locked around his wrist and even as he tried to step away, John secured it to the bed.
The silence was deafening.
Scott tugged, but it was secure.
"Unlock it."
John stepped back. "I can't."
"John, let me go. Now." His tone was deadly but John still shook his head.
"I won't watch you be killed." He spun one of the monitors he had been looking at. Scott had assumed it was to do with Gordon but then realised it was the motion sensors outside of Two. There were heat signatures building at the edge of the forest.
"You're not invincible, Scott."
Scott wasn't sure he had ever heard so much raw emotion in John's voice before. He tugged at the restraint but it was futile.
"Don't do this, John."
"You didn't give me a choice."
John shook his head. He reached the sliding door.
"Don't you dare-,"
"I'm sorry."
John disappeared, the door closing behind him. Hearing the pod being sealed, Scott yanked harder on the restraint. At first, he couldn't work out what he was hearing, then realised that the cameras had the audio on and the faint pop pop was the sound of gunfire. The men were coming out of the forest, shooting at Two despite it doing no good.
The engines roared and Scott watched, helpless, as the heat signatures fled back into the forest. He sagged back down onto the bed, resting his head in his free hand as Thunderbird Two lifted off. It didn't matter how long it took him to get free of the cuff now: there was nothing he could do.
He was going home, whether he liked it or not. Without Virgil.