He didn't expect to be awake. Asleep was his default these days, his body needing all its energy to repair itself.

It had been so close, and if he was honest, he wasn't sure he had been completely saved yet. Didn't know if he had what he needed to survive.

Whether he had enough.

Living just hurt.

But sleep. Sleep was an escape and he took it when he could.

He could hide from the pain in his brothers' eyes.

So, to be woken was an annoyance and he tried to ignore it, and sought to return to safe oblivion.

But there was a whisper of words. Deep, quiet, sad words, that forced him to consciousness.

A touch to his hair.

"Gords, I know it hurts, but you have to fight." A ragged breath and that finger brushed through the remains of his hair again. "Please fight." An exhale. "God, please fight."

Virgil. His second eldest brother. Engineer, smart, always knew what to do, reassurance in a multi-tonne pickup truck.

Lips touched Gordon's hairline.

And Gordon burst into tears.

They were awkward tears, hampered by lungs strangled by water, broken ribs and a heart that beat erratically.

"Gordon!"

There were strong hands holding him. More worried words. The damaged aquanaut couldn't say anything, his heart wouldn't let him.

More words. Those hands clinging to him. Gordon kept his eyes squeezed shut. Oh god.

Pain.

So much pain.

But only part of it was physical. The rest...

The failure, the fear, the want.

The want to be better. The want to be what he had been. The want for it all to stop.

Hands. Words.

Love.

God, he was so tired of hurting.

"I'm sorry, Gords. So sorry." That hand was stroking his hair again.

Tears were in his brother's voice as much as his own.

Still the hand brushed at the remainder of his hair. "I'm sorry."

His eyes opened of their own volition, revealing the blur of his dark-haired brother, red plaid wrinkling. He blinked, desperate to clear the image.

"Gordon?" Virgil's voice was rough. "Hey?"

The aquanaut tried to raise a hand and touch his brother, but his blasted injuries wouldn't let him even do that.

But something must have moved, because Virgil's eyes darted to Gordon's right hand, the one small part of him that wasn't swathed in bandages. His brother reached over, gently picked up that hand and held it ever so carefully in both his own.

"Gordon?"

And Gordon could feel that touch. Feel the calluses on his brother's fingers, worn rough by hard work. No pain. Just touch. Warm and loving touch. The sensation was startling.

He stared up at his brother, eyes widening.

Virgil frowned, worry etching caverns into his face. His lips formed Gordon's name again, little more than breath, as a single tear rolled down his big brother's cheek to drop to the bedsheets.

Gordon opened his mouth, throat tight and dry. "I…"

He closed his eyes, clenching his jaw with concentration, emotion welling up from his gut. This was his body. He had control.

Control!

Opening his eyes, he looked up at his brother again.

"I'll…I'll try."

-o-o-o-