A/N: I couldn't leave the boys there, I had to start fixing it.
This thing has fought me for weeks, but I think this fits the bill.
Not for your eyes part 2
It was well into the evening by the time Scott and Virgil emerged from the mine. In the meantime local authorities and the GDF teams finally arrived, swarming the site and continuing the grim work of recovery.
Alan had done what he could- scanning, mapping, liaising and relaying messages when their comms could punch through and the GDF's couldn't. But through it all and despite his instincts to go in and assist, as ordered he stayed in the ship, knowing that right now his brothers needed the reassurance of the knowledge that he was safe and more importantly away from what they were facing far more than they needed another set of hands to assist them.
In a quiet moment between everything else he pinned down John for a run down of what to do and what to expect when the other two returned. John had evidently been waiting for this call as he sent over a checklist for him to follow.
It was sobering to realise that this had happened enough times that there was a checklist.
Finally as floodlights were set up to create an artificial day, the Pod trundled out of the mine, it's yellow hull dyed black with soot. Pre-warned by the inbuilt tracking, even before Scott's clipped and deliberately neutral 'we're enroute', Alan had been watching for it from the cockpit windows. He waited as it drove through a decontamination station that the GDF had set up, ordered Two to raise up on her legs and open the module to let them in, then as soon as the Pod had docked he sealed the module and had Two lower herself back down to lock everything up and let them access the interior door to the airframe.
The mental image of a mother bird fluffing out her feathers and settling over her chicks seemed to be apt right now. His brothers needed protection and he could make it happen for them.
But despite all the prep work, Alan couldn't help but fidget with nervousness, pulling out the carabiner on his baldric and clicking the latch in random patterns as he waited - John had told him that Scott and Virgil would want to tidy up by themselves to mentally 'cap off' the mission, then decontaminate and shower before they'd be ready to see him. As per the checklist, he'd left some bland ration bars, four bottles of sports drinks and two coffees, strong, black and heavily sweetened with honey, on the bench in the tiny kitchen. John had explained this bit too- as part of the 'ritual' when something like this happened, their helmets did not come off until they were done. They'd need the quick hit of sugar and carbs after today.
While they cleaned he heard engines fire as One left the disaster zone under the guiding hand of John, taking her home while they waited for Two's passengers to be ready.
Finally he heard footsteps on the other side of the cockpit door, the handle turned and Scott and Virgil quietly came in, their shoulders bowed under the burden of the day.
They looked… aged. That was the only word Alan could put to it- grey with exhaustion, eyes dulled and deep lines of fatigue that was more than just physical carved around their eyes. To his surprise they weren't in full uniform- wearing just the dark one-piece undersuits they all used and their boots, as if the full weight of the flight suits and getting everything else on was just too much to deal with right now. Scott didn't even have his undersuit fully done up, just zipped halfway up with the arms tied around his waist in an improvised belt, like Gordon would do sometimes when his clothes caught his scars and the sensation was just too much to handle.
Seeing the ropes of raised scars on Scott's chest and back made Alan realise that Gordon wasn't the only one who had that problem.
But with senses fine tuned by living with a family that didn't always know when to ask for help (because their metrics for bad/not bad were so horribly skewed it was laughable sometimes) Alan could tell exactly what was needed right now. He looked at his brothers and spread his arms wide in invitation.
Scott got to him first, pulling him into a tight hug, close enough that Alan could feel him trembling. Virgil joined them a heartbeat later and Alan had the unusual sensation of being the 'dominant' one- enfolding his older brothers and giving the hug, rather than being the one enfolded and receiving the hug.
How long they stood like that, he didn't know, but he resolved to stay like that for as long as his brothers needed, banishing the remembered experience of death with the presence of life.
Eventually first Virgil then Scott shifted and Alan followed their lead, pulling back but not away, still standing with their arms around each other but now with eyes closed and their foreheads pressed against each other in a triune version of what the older two had done before- drawing strength from each other to shore up battered and bruised hearts that had been rent and torn by the events of today.
"Home?" Alan quietly asked when his brothers seemed to have had enough for now and they both straightened up.
"Home." Virgil agreed with a small flicker of a smile, releasing the other two to stumble into the co-pilot seat and sag into it, letting his head fall back into the headrest.
While Virgil did so, Scott tugged Alan into another quick hug and he could just hear the whispered 'thank you'.
"Any time." Alan murmured back, giving the eldest one last little squeeze before letting go so that Scott could turn and slump into the monitoring station seat, weariness in every line of his body.
As he took the pilot's seat and brought the great transporter to life, Two's engines were a comforting rumble, deep and strong, as she lifted off under Alan's direction so he could take his brothers back home.