Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds.

Characters: Gordon, Scott. Rating: T. Warnings: Panic Attacks, PTSD

Drabble challenge from purfectpurple: "Seventy two times in a minute" and "Xanax and tears" with Gordon and Scott.

Scott had problems. It wasn't something any of them tended to discuss on a regular basis - if Scott never had to talk about it again, he'd be delighted, and talking about it behind his back just felt a hundred different types of wrong - but they all knew it.

Then again, people didn't survive three months of hell as a prisoner of war and come back all sunshine and roses. Even if Gordon hadn't seen it in Scott, he'd seen it enough times in WASP to know no-one got out of military service unscathed. Hell, he hadn't, either, although at least he had the luxury of having physical scars and a cool story to tell to deflect from the mental issues.

Scott didn't. Scott hid behind masks upon masks - Commander, CEO, Smother Hen - instead. They let him, bitter experience from those first few months giving them too much of a glimpse into the damage that would never truly heal. He did his thing; he was responsible and had monthly meetings with a therapist even now. It was as under control as it was ever going to be.

But under control didn't mean gone, and sometimes the masks failed him, fell away until the scars were on full display. On the worst days, they reopened a crack.

He tended to hide away from them on those days, bedroom door locked and barred and comms muted. There was nothing any of them could do except leave him be, and maybe be just a little more openly affectionate when he remerged with red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks.

But sometimes, he didn't manage to hide away in time. It was second nature at this point to banish Alan when the cracks started to show - Gordon's little brother never complained, mature enough at least to understand it wasn't for his sake they didn't want him to see Scott at his worse - but none of the others would leave Scott alone if his safe haven was out of reach.

It didn't consciously fall to Gordon on those days, John and Virgil still his big brothers and trying their best to protect him, but his age meant nothing when he was the only one of them that had any chance of understanding what it was like. With Scott's permission, he'd taken to carrying around a small pill case in his baldric, not for their rescuees, but for his big brother if they were away from home.

Rescues were a prime opportunity for him to crack, if something hit too close to home. They always made a point to keep him away from the main triggers, but sometimes there was nothing they could protect him from. An innocent comment. A trick of the light. Someone with just the wrong features on their face.

Scott was apt at burying it, slamming down the Commander façade with enough force that it cracked if you knew what you were looking for, and piloting was so ingrained in his blood that in theory he'd always make it home safe.

Gordon preferred not to take the risk if it could be avoided. He'd leave Virgil to pack up Thunderbird Two alone and coax Scott into the safety of Thunderbird One away from prying eyes.

Hugs made things worse, physical contact the furthest thing from a grounding presence and a sure fire way to cement his mind wherever it had fled to, so Gordon would just sit opposite him, close enough to reach but far enough to be out of Scott's personal space, and wait for it to pass. The slight brushing of their hands as he passed the pill over, Scott more often than not swallowing it dry, was all they'd have. Then it was just a waiting game.

For Gordon, the worst days were the ones with tears. Most often, Scott would just clam up, muscles locked and eyes unseeing as he gasped for breath. That hurt, because of course it did - it was Scott and seeing him so far away would never be anything short of agonising - but the pill would kick in and after several minutes Scott would be back to himself again.

The days he cried, when gasps for breath turned into broken, wet sobs, and Scot curled in on himself until he resembled a human hedgehog - complete with the metaphorical spikey defences - were the ones where Gordon had to ball his hands into fists to stop them shaking. To quell the urge to pull his broken brother in close and do everything in his power to hold him together.

It wouldn't help; it would only make things worse. So Gordon just had to watch and witness and wait until Scott drew himself out again, with the help of that same pill.

Tears or no tears, it was Scott's breathing he listened to as his brother rode it out. On his worst days he'd clocked Scott gasping seventy two times in a minute and dug out a rebreather in preparation for a potential collapse. If it ever got that high, Gordon would pilot home no matter what Scott said. More often it peaked closer to forty, twice what it should be but faster to calm again and still leaving him safe to pilot.

Once it was over, pill kicking in and Scott once again calm and rational, Gordon normally left. Scott never wanted to acknowledge the incidents, and Gordon respected that enough to never bring it up himself. More often than not his departure was silent and forever unacknowledged, and the next time he saw Scott - normally back at home again - his brother's masks were back and he was the same Scott as always.

It hurt, knowing that Scott was always going to carry those scars, knowing that those little pills were in his baldric for a just-in-case that happened more than he'd like, and sometimes Gordon wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. But they didn't talk about it, not with Scott, and not about him, either. It was just one of those facts of life they had to deal with. Would always have to deal with.

And if it came up in his own monthly therapy sessions, well no-one else needed to know.

So I had to look up Xanax because that's an unfamiliar term to me; seems like it's some sort of meds against panic attacks and anxiety, which is the context I used it in here rather than as the specific brand of med it actually is. Also let's just assume it doesn't automatically ground someone from piloting if taken… Future medical advancements, right?

Thanks for reading!
Tsari