Chapter 77.
I have very strong opinions on what my boi went through during and after the events of SOS Part 2. The physical and mental recovery from such a horrific accident cannot have been easy.
I wrote this chapter about a month ago with the specific intention of shoehorning it into the current plotline. I opted to publish it separately under the title 'SOS Part 3' at the time, as I realised that I was about eight to nine chapters away from a point where I could realistically introduce it. As a result, today's upload may not be new reading to a few of you.
Warning: death, physical injury, emotional distress, and mental trauma are all referenced. This one's a little darker than what the boys usually get up to, but never fear. Hilarity will resume after my boi has had his moment in the whump spotlight.
-x-
'Gordon, you've activated your emergency code….Gordon? Gordon?'
Gordon stirred feebly, his head screaming in protest when he tried to raise it to follow his brother's voice. He could hear movement outside what remained of Thunderbird Four, but knew he was in no condition to investigate.
Everything hurt so much.
Cracking an eye open, he spied Fuse retreating back to the Chaos Cruiser, Braman in his arms. Underwater distance distortion made separating one fuzzy shape from another hard, but he possessed just enough strength to make out Havoc staring down at him from the safety of the cockpit.
She was smirking at him.
The coldness behind those blue eyes, so different yet so similar to Alan and Scott's, filled Gordon with fear. He was critically injured and had never so much as raised an eyebrow at Havoc, yet knew that neither her nor Fuse were going to lift a finger to help him.
Fear transitioned to quiet despair as the Chaos Cruiser turned and began to make its way toward the surface. Using every ounce of willpower he had, Gordon managed to crack his eye open again, only to be met with near darkness. With the Chaos Cruiser's spotlights gone, he was reminded of exactly how dark the seafloor really was. The only light he had was the dim pulse of a nearby volcanic vent, and it was hardly comforting.
He hoped he'd get to see his brother's faces again. The way Scott frowned at him in concern if he left for a rescue without eating breakfast. The way Virgil smiled indulgently at him whenever he tested out a new joke. The way John sighed and shook his head at him when he asked if denial was a nice river in Egypt. The way Alan gawped at him in silent adoration every time he pulled a successful prank on one of their brothers.
It would be nice to see Brains, Kayo, Penelope, and Grandma again as well. Despite bearing no biological relation to the first three, Gordon still considered them family and had fond memories of them all. The way Brains chastised him every time he brought a pod or Thunderbird Four back in less than mint condition. The way Kayo smartassed him if he ever made tasteless jokes about her being Scott's girlfriend. The way Penelope tutted at him whenever he requested iced tea instead of 'proper' tea. The way Grandma fussed over him on his rare down days.
Yes, he'd like to see them all again.
-x-
A familiar voice roused Gordon from the depths of unconsciousness.
If possible, everything hurt even worse than before. He was vaguely aware of water entering Thunderbird Four's cockpit and gave himself a mental pat on the back for having the forethought to put his helmet on. At least drowning wasn't a threat. The hot water from the vents definitely was, though. His suit didn't feel like it was torn anywhere, but he could feel the heat starting to radiate through the fabric. He was fairly certain he'd also managed to dislodge at least two bones.
Opening his eyes was far too much effort. Plus, doing so would confirm his worst fear; that he was still trapped in the dark, terrifying carcass of his beloved yellow submarine.
Maybe his brothers hadn't picked up his SOS. Thunderbird Four's systems were damaged beyond recognition, and his comm device was equally redundant.
"Gordon? This is John. I need you to sit tight. Help is on the way."
Gordon stirred in response. He tried to croak his brother's name, but lacked the strength. The pain in his neck was starting to make him feel sick, and he could hear blood whistling in his ears.
"Virgil, Scott, and Alan have just left home. Their ETA to your location is six and a half minutes exactly. I'm going to stay on the line until they arrive, okay?"
A stray tear leaked out of an eye that still refused to open.
"I'm not getting any vitals from your suit," John continued, his voice calm and soothing, "But I promise that we'll get you out in one piece. I'm half hoping we'll have to shave your head, then maybe I can be the one making fun of you for a change."
Another tear leaked out.
"Do you remember the donkey we used to keep at Gran Roca?" John gave a laugh that sounded genuine and forced at the same time, "You loved him. Mom named him Brandy because of the way he weaved like a drunk whenever he came to the gate. He started life as a working animal on a neighbouring farm, but ended up at the local auction when he couldn't plough in straight lines anymore. His owners couldn't afford farm machinery and were ineligible for a government grant, so couldn't cover the vet fees. Mom felt sorry for him and bid on him as a companion for Apollo, who was Dad's horse at the time. Mom used to sit you and me on him and lead us around the paddock. Well, I say lead…poor Brandy was so wonky he usually ended up just dragging her diagonally across the field. He died of a colic complication right before Alan was born, but we were told that he'd gone to live with a wild donkey herd on Carrot Mountain instead."
Two more tears managed to escape before John's voice faded and nothingness descended once again.
"It's okay, Gordon. I'm here."
-x-
His head was resting on something soft and sweet-smelling.
"Hurry, Parker! Please."
Penelope reminded him of a swan; beautiful yet dangerous. He wondered if she liked the colour yellow as much as he did.
More nothingness.
-x-
Gordon's next brush with consciousness wasn't pleasant.
He was being carried, which meant he wasn't underwater anymore. Whoever was carrying him smelt familiar and was cradling him in a firm grip. He hoped it was Penelope, but knew it was probably Scott or Virgil.
"…multiple broken bones, severe whiplash, moderate head trauma..."
He could hear John, but couldn't tell if his presence was physical or holographic.
"….Chaos Cruiser sighted three miles northwest. I recommend immediate evasion..."
Gordon suddenly saw Havoc's cold smirk imprinted on the inside of his eyelids. She'd wanted him dead. Even after all the lives he'd saved, someone had wanted him dead.
It was too much.
"Whoa, Gordon!" Scott cried, tightening his hold when Gordon began to thrash in fear, "Easy! You're safe now!"
Gordon didn't think he'd ever feel safe again. Ignoring the agony brought on by his shredded muscles and shattered bones, he began to spasm and jerk in Scott's arms, his eyes wide with fear.
"Virgil!" Scott yelled, swearing loudly when Gordon came close to overpowering him, "A little help!"
Two sets of hands were suddenly restraining him. One yanked his helmet off so that he could breathe more easily, but the sudden temperature shock served only to agitate him further. A bolt of unimaginable pain shot up his spine and exploded at the base of his skull, making his vision swim.
'Hurk.'
"Everyone back off," Scott instructed, his tone offering no room for negotiation as he lowered Gordon's legs onto the floor and propped his torso up against his knee, "He's going to be sick."
"Won't he choke?" came Alan's panicked voice.
"Not if he's sat upright," Scott replied, shifting his knee so that he was supporting all of Gordon's weight, "I'm more worried about what he's doing to his existing injuries in this state. We need to calm him down."
"There are handcuffs and some olanzapine in the first aid kit," Virgil yelled from Thunderbird Two's cockpit, "Restrain him and give him a 10mg intramuscular shot after his stomach has settled. That should pacify him."
Scott was powerless to do anything as his second youngest brother began to violently dry heave. They'd all had people throw up on them before, but this time was different. Gordon was crippled to the point of vulnerability, and the stress of vomiting was making his pulse erratic. It was torture to watch.
The next ten seconds passed in a painful blur. Scott yelled something at Virgil. Virgil yelled something at Alan. Alan panicked. John yelled something at Virgil. Virgil swore and abandoned his post in the cockpit to fetch something from the medical bay. Scott took whatever Virgil had found and stabbed it through Gordon's suit and into his bicep, apologising quietly as he depressed the plunger.
In the background, a familiar British accent cut through the mayhem.
"Oh, Gordon."
-x-
Gordon's eyes fluttered open.
White. Everywhere was white.
His left arm was shrouded by a sling.
The floor was white.
His right leg was encased in a cast.
The curtains were white.
His head was covered with bandages.
The walls were white.
His right arm was hooked to an IV.
The lab coat on the kind looking lady studying his heartrate monitor was white.
White had always been Gordon's least favourite colour, but not anymore. He had a sudden newfound hatred for the colour purple.
Specifically, the shade of Havoc's armour.
Luckily, the flowers on his bedside table were yellow.
-x-
Gordon's first week in the ICU was not smooth.
Nightmares plagued him every time sleep beckoned. Images of dark water, purple armour, and cold smirks tormented him whenever he sought relief from the pain of his battered body.
His brothers rarely left his side. Alan in particular was always reluctant to leave and had fallen asleep next to the bed on more than one occasion. It was both a sad and utterly adorable sight.
International Rescue continued to run as normal, of course. Kayo volunteered herself as Virgil's co-pilot for call-outs that featured water. With the original Thunderbird Four destroyed and the new one half-finished in Brains's lab, they had to make do with the submarine pods instead. Meanwhile, Grandma channelled her worry into cooking and freezing enough homemade dinners to fill Thunderbird Three's cargo bay, while MAX busied himself with cleaning and organising Gordon's room in anticipation of his return home.
Scott was strict on visitors at the hospital, mainly because Gordon got emotional when he received them. Penelope visited whenever her schedule permitted and offered Sherbert as a form of pet therapy. Colonel Casey, Rigby, Parker, and Kip Harris also dropped by to wish him a speedy recovery. Everyone else was politely turned down.
As were bunches of purple flowers.
-x-
As Havoc sashayed towards an emotionally spent Virgil, she was oblivious to the figure stalking her like a shark.
John had slipped away to notify Colonel Casey and Rigby of her presence, leaving Gordon with strict instructions to not engage her under any circumstances. Which would have been fine, except the same woman who'd left him to die now had her crosshairs fixed on his most sensitive brother.
Though Gordon's physical wounds had healed, the psychological wounds Havoc had inflicted would last a lifetime. But things were different this time. He wasn't alone, and the odds were much more favourable than the three against one scenario that had unfolded in the Marindata Ventfields. He was fully recovered, had the backing of his family and friends, and the element of surprise.
And he was furious.
Rage was an incredibly rare emotion to witness in Gordon, but when it happened, the world and his wife knew about it.
As Havoc rapidly closed the gap between her and Virgil, Gordon's rage boiled over into outright hatred.
'How dare she.'
A common misconception outside of International Rescue was that its youngest members relied on their older brothers for protection. While Gordon wasn't averse to Scott or Virgil defending his honour, he could be quite the formidable foe when sufficiently provoked.
As Havoc was about to find out.