"We're too late." Scott sighed over the radio. "It looks like they were gone before we hit Canadian airspace. Whole mine is burned out, but we still need to search in case there's any survivors." His tone changed, becoming the Commander. "Virgil, Alan doesn't leave the ship." He ordered in a voice that brooked no opposition.
"F.A.B." Virgil answered grimly as he finished landing Thunderbird Two above the mine. "I'll prep a transport pod and meet you at the main entrance."
"Copy that."
"But…!" Alan protested as he unbuckled himself, ready to argue his point, that he'd earned the blues, that he wasn't a kid anymore and he could handle it, just like them. He just needed the chance to prove it.
Virgil got out of his seat, walked to him, knelt, put his hands on Alan's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "Alan." He began, and something about his voice, about the emotions cascading through Virgil's eyes, stopped all of Alan's forming protests. "I know you're Thunderbird Five now, you're out there and saving lives, but you're also our little brother who's just turned sixteen. Alan, please, trust me, trust Scott, and trust our judgement on this. We love you, we know what's in there, we've seen it before and we know how to deal with it. You don't want to see this until you absolutely have to. Please Alan, do this for me? I'm not going to be in a condition to fly home safely, Scott won't either."
The admission startled Alan into stunned silence. It was that bad? He knew rescue work wasn't all sunshine and roses, hard not to when your family came back from out there bleeding and bruised, or woke up screaming with nightmares, but to have a situation described like this…?
"Scott's probably going to want to ride home with us, John'll be piloting One home remotely in any case, but I want you to fly Two for me." Virgil went on.
Alan swallowed hard as the simple explanation drove the weight of it home, now that he had a metric to measure it against. Scott had been dragged out of One's cockpit before with his determination to fly himself home, injuries be damned, or someone had had to distract him so John could hijack his ship right under his nose. But for Scott to be in a state that he'd willingly abdicate the pilot's seat? Virgil was more sensible about it, but even he was reluctant to leave Two's pilot chair if he could help it. The weight of how bad it had to be pressed down on his shoulders, even more than the pressure of Virgil's hands on him.
"Okay Virgil." He found himself saying in a small voice.
"Thank you. Get on the scanners for me, liaise with John and tie into One's drones, we'll need mapping, and maybe you can pick up any lifesigns in Two's range." Virgil squeezed his shoulders reassuringly, a hint of a smile curving his lips, then he stood, visibly steeled himself as he put on his helmet and walked to the platform that would lower him down to the ground.
Alan scrambled for the top hatch as soon as Virgil was gone, lying flat on the platform to peer over Two's nose to watch as Virgil drove the transport pod over to the smoking entrance of the underground mine. Scott was standing there, waiting for him. To his surprise, instead of climbing up when Virgil stopped, Scott stood there and waited, taking his helmet off. Virgil climbed down and took his helmet off as well, and they stood there for a moment, hands on each others' shoulders and foreheads pressed together in a gesture he'd only seen a handful of times, drawing strength from each other in a rare moment of vulnerability.
The moment passed, the helmets went back on and his brothers climbed into the pod. Sobered, Alan went back inside Two and called up the scanner controls. He'd do what he could from here, and while they shielded him from what was in the mine, he'd be ready to look after them when they came back out.