Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds.
Whumptober Day 30: "Left For Dead"
"Morning, Scotty," Gordon chirped as he walked into the room. Outside, dawn was breaking, complete with the singing of birds and flurry of insects rising in the early-morning temperatures before the heat got too much for them later. Gordon himself was just about towelled dry after his morning swim, damp towel still slung around his neck and clad in nothing but not-quite-dripping swimming shorts just about clinging to his hips.
This was their time of day, long before the stirring of the nocturnal creatures that comprised the rest of their family, and Gordon wasn't going to let it go to waste as he chewed obnoxiously on a carrot twist, blueberry and banana smoothie clutched in his other hand.
Virgil was snoring away as usual, hunched over in a way that his back would regret later, even if the man himself refused to. Unfortunately, Gordon had learnt the hard way that there was no shifting him without disturbing him, and a pre-coffee Virgil at dawn was not a combination he was up for fending off today, so his immediate older brother went ignored in favour of his eldest.
At this time of day, Scott should be wide awake and just coming back from a morning run, ready to share breakfast with Gordon while they waited for the rest of their siblings to emerge from their caves. It was the one, near-guaranteed, time of day where it was just the two of them, and Gordon appreciated that more than he ever let on. The problem with having so many brothers was that getting just one of them was difficult; Virgil he usually had on the way home from rescues, fending off the post-adrenaline high, while Alan sought him out of his own accord frequently, and John was only ever a call away. Scott split his attention between all of them, and all the work he had to do, which meant time with just Scott was precious, and as Gordon had grown old enough to truly appreciate his biggest brother in a way he knew he hadn't as a kid, it was time he cherished.
He wasn't letting it go so easily.
Scott's eyes were closed. They'd been closed for four days, and Gordon was privately starting to fear that they might not open again. Four was an unlucky number in some cultures, the number most closely linked to death, and his biggest brother's pale face didn't instil him with confidence. The only, dubiously, positive thing was that he did, impossibly, look better than he had.
Pale was far preferable to white. It was also preferable to red, which was a colour that had been splattered liberally across Scott's skin and clothes.
They still didn't know what had happened, exactly. Kayo and John were on the case, tearing into any evidence they could find in the hopes of finding out, while Virgil and Grandma had delved into medical tests to try and work out what the various injuries Scott was sporting had been caused by. For the most part, Gordon's job was keeping Alan out of the way and too busy to dwell on Scott's condition.
It seemed to be working for the youngest. It was not stopping the thoughts swirling around in Gordon's mind.
Whatever had happened to Scott - the jury was still, frustratingly, out on that when it came to the details - he hadn't woken since. At first, it had been the anaesthetic and life-saving procedures that kept him under, and that was understandable, but now he was just sleeping - supposedly just sleeping - but he'd yet to wake.
No-one was claiming responsibility. No gloats, no black market videos or other underhanded exchanges of information. Absolutely nothing, except for the one fact that kept spinning around in Gordon's head like an uninvited yet persistent guest: Scott had almost certainly been left once the guilty party decided he was beyond any use to them. Probably after one wound too many, tipping the blood loss from significant to fatal - or what passed as fatal to people who didn't know better. Much longer and it would have been, but they'd found him in time and now he was fully submerged in the recovery process.
If only he'd open his eyes.
Gordon was not, however, going to let that put him off. Maybe he was just going a little mad, but a morning routine was a morning routine, and he would keep having breakfast with his brother, even if Scott wasn't actually eating and Virgil was slumped over the edge of their eldest brother's bed like another piece of the furniture.
Gordon perched on the side of the bed, by Scott's shoulder and a little way up from Virgil's head, and viciously bit off a section of carrot twist. "How are you feeling this fine morning?" he asked, not necessarily intending for it to be a rhetoric question, but not expecting a reply, either. That didn't make the responding silence any better. "It's quite warm out already; summer's definitely on its way now." A butterfly flitted into view on the holographic window, currently streaming a view from one of the higher cameras they had installed on Tracy Island. Not Gordon's preferred one - he liked the underwater vistas the best, to no-one's surprise - but it was one of Scott's favourites.
It'd be great if Scott would actually wake up to see it.
"Alan had me playing so much Cavern Quest last night, you know," he told his brother, ignoring the sleeping Virgil. He wouldn't wake for several hours - unless Scott did, and Gordon would have different things on his mind than a private, albeit currently one-sided, conversation if that happened. "Did he tell you he's currently top of the leaderboard for some event or other? I've got no idea why he tried to jeopardise that by dragging me in."
That wasn't strictly true; it had been a distraction - for both of them, if Gordon was honest with himself - and a rather staged attempt at a normality they just couldn't quite grasp while Scott was down and out.
Gordon took a loud, obnoxious, slurp of his smoothie to drown out silly thoughts of grasping hold of his brother and begging him to wake up. Not right now; not when he was trying desperately to cling to whatever normality he could scrape together.
This was their morning time together, sometimes spent in silence and sometimes spent talking about anything and everything, but special regardless. Gordon wasn't going to taint it by shaking things up.
That was for other times of the day, when his brothers were also clamouring for Scott in their own ways and they joined forces to pray that today would be the day.
Gordon could talk for hours if someone let him. Talking to Scott about anything and everything that came to mind, the same as he always did, was second nature and he once again launched into one-sided recounts of events that had befallen him since they'd found Scott. It was easier than letting silence settle.
As always, he ate when he wasn't talking, brief lulls in conversation filled with another crunch of carrot twist or slurped smoothie, until his breakfast was well and truly consumed and the rays of sun displayed by the holoprojector graduated from the oranges and yellows of dawn to the blue sky of a fresh day.
Just like the past four days, Scott didn't stir at all and Gordon pulled the morning conversation to a reluctant end.
"Well, I'd best go get dressed before Grandma sees me and has a fit about the swimming trunks," he sighed, balling up the wrapper in one fist and drawing one last slurp from the straw to make sure he hadn't missed any. "Be good for Virgil, and I'll see you again later." Awake, hopefully, but that was out of his hands.
Out of anyone's hands, except perhaps Scott's own.
Gordon slipped off of the bed, rearranging the covers until the creases where he'd been sitting weren't visible.
"Try not to sleep too much longer?" he asked quietly. "This isn't the same when you don't talk back." Nothing was the same without Scott, but he wasn't going to admit that. At least, not out loud.
No reply – expected, if unappreciated.
His limbs felt like lead as he forced himself to his feet again. Virgil was there; Scott wouldn't wake alone, whenever he decided to wake up. Gordon had clothes to deal with, as well as Alan and any rescues that came in.
"See you later, Scotty," he murmured, before reluctantly leaving the room and letting out a shaky breath. He could only keep the routine going so much longer, and he was well aware of it.
Please wake up soon, Scott.
Honestly I had a lot of trouble figuring out where to go with this one, but when in doubt, fall back on the tried and true Military Bros :D
Thanks for reading!
Tsari