Scott paced the hanger as he waited for the arrival of Thunderbird 2.
An hour ago he had been finishing up a mission in Australia when John had called him. "There's been an incident at the LA rescue. Virgil is OK but Alan is unresponsive."
Scott felt his heart plummet as John's words rang through his head. Incident, Alan, unresponsive. Concern and panic gripped Scott like a cold vice, but Scott was technically still on his own mission. So he swallowed his emotions and put on a calm face. After double-checking that the generators at the research base WEREN'T going to explode anytime in the foreseeable future, he bid the research team goodbye in a cool, collected, professional manner.
Scott almost tripped, hurrying into Thunderbird One. He strapped himself in and rushed through all the pre-flight checks. Now that everything had been settled here, there was only one thing on his mind. Little brothers. It was like tunnel vision.
"John, I've finished up here. The generator was repairable and the research team is currently safe. No injuries to report. I'm heading to the LA site now."
"Scott. No. Virgil is OK and he's just fired up Thunderbird Two. He's on his way back to Tracy Island. He'll be able to handle the situation until he gets there. I want you to go to the Island and prepare to receive Virgil and Alan."
Prepare to receive… aka prep the infirmary.
Scott swallowed the lump in his throat, gripped the steering wheel, and nodded. John was right. If Virgil was already leaving then there wasn't any point in him heading over. He'd only be in the way at that point.
"FAB John."
With Thunderbird One, the flight wasn't very long at all. Fifteen minutes at most. Another five minutes to dock and power down. Then about ten more minutes to prep the infirmary and alert Brains of his possibly required assistance. To which Brains replied he'd be there after Thunderbird Two arrived. They usually tried to keep the infirmary ready to receive at least one person at all times. Virgil said it was more efficient. So there wasn't much for Scott to do, except for a little extra prepping.
A quick check of the flight path told Scott that Thunderbird Two wouldn't arrive for another half hour, at least. Scott didn't do well with waiting. He was a man of action and risks. He was a doer, not a waiter. When he was forced to wait, his mind tended to wander, and when it wandered, it often wandered into dangerous territory. Scott found himself wondering what exactly had happened to Alan.
He began to imagine scenarios, each worse than the last. Starting with a simple sprain and knock to the head, nothing deadly at least. But when Scott started to picture a beat-up Alan barely holding onto life, laying on the med bay aboard Thunderbird Two, he shook his head. OK. He needed to do something. Noticing he was still in uniform, Scott opted for a shower and a change of clothes to occupy himself.
Twenty minutes later Scott found himself pacing the hanger as he awaited the arrival of Thunderbird 2, clean and donning a fresh pair of civilian clothing. Oh boy, did he pace. Scott paced and fretted, then paused to see if he could hear Thunderbird Two's engines in the distance. When he couldn't then it was back to pacing and fretting. Pacing, then fretting, then pausing, then more pacing. Scott needed to do something.
"You're going to make a hole in the floor with how much pacing you're doing."
Scott gave an indignant squawk and shot a glare over his shoulder. Gordon had joined him sometime in the last five minutes. Exactly when, Scott wasn't sure. The kid could be stealthy when he really wanted to.
Just like Scott, John had alerted Gordon of the situation involving Alan and asked him to prepare the infirmary. Unlike Scott, Gordon had refused to do so. His reasoning was, quote, "It'll give Scott something to do." Scott was a little peeved when he discovered this, no matter how true it was.
"I'm just a little on edge, Gordon. I need to know what happened." Scott huffed.
Gordon wasn't pacing. He was sitting in the back of the hanger, on top of a few supply crates. He had several medkits open and seemed to be doing an inventory check.
"Yeah, well I'm not exactly having the time of my life here either. But at least I'm not running a groove into the floor." Bingo. He was worried. Gordon only ever did medical supply checks when he was worried. "I'm doing something productive."
Scott shot a pointed look at Gordon but didn't say anything. The squid had a point. He wasn't helping anyone by pacing back and forth, but there wasn't much to do other than wait. So he began pacing again, running scenarios through his head of what possibly could have happened and how to handle each situation. He needed to know what happened.
Before Scott could imagine anything too terrible, the sound of Thunderbird Two's engines and the fake cave wall breaking away sounded in the background.
Gordon sat a little straighter and narrowed his eyes at Scott. "Scott, get out of the way. You're standing on Two's entry runway."
Scott shot Gordon another glare before coming to stand beside him. "I knew that."
"Yeah. sure." Gordon scoffed. "Look don't barge into Two' as soon as she stops ok? Give Virgil a little time to get his bearings straight."
"No way. What if he needs help with Alan?"
"Scott. Virgil's got this. Honestly, the dude is more of a smother hen than you are. Give him a little time."
Scott was silent for a moment before he sighed. His shoulders dropped in defeat. Gordon was right. He needed to trust that Virgil could handle this. When had his little brothers gotten so wise? And when had they gotten so good at reading him?
"It's because we've had you all our lives," Gordon said softly.
"W-what?" Scott was taken off guard. He hadn't said that out loud.
"You were wondering how we got so good at reading you. Come on Scott, it's written all over your face." Gordon looked Scott in the eyes, "We've had you all our lives, but you, Scott, have only had us for a portion of your life."
Scott merely stared at Gordon, taken slightly aback from his younger brother's observation. "Wow, Gordo. I didn't expect you to say something so profound."
Gordon shrugged and gave a small hum, but said nothing else. The two slipped into a comfortable silence with Gordon sitting on the supply crates counting gauze rolls, and Scott standing beside him, his eyes on Thunderbird Two. Every now and then, Two's engines would clang as the metal cooled. It was a simple, momentary, peace.
Scott broke the silence, still keeping his gaze on Thunderbird Two. "Why do you think that Virgil is a bigger smother hen than I am? I'm the oldest."
Gordon gave out a squawk of disbelief, "Seriously Scott? You may be the oldest but Virgil definitely frets more. Not in the 'make a hole in the floor' way you do, but he definitely frets. Remember a little over a year ago when we made an appearance at that air show? Virgil was so concerned about how his little brothers would appear in public while you just wanted to go home. You even sulked in Thunderbird One."
"Hey, I had other things on my mind. Plus you guys weren't in any immediate danger." Scott defended.
Gordon gave a soft laugh, "I'm not mad at you, Scotty. I'm just sayin, Virge tends to fret a little more than you do. He's more… How do I say this? Motherly."
Scott was quiet. A small smile crept onto his face. He could see what Gordon was getting at. Virgil was often the one who stopped their younger brothers from going on rescues if they were too tired or their limits were being pushed. And he often talked sense into Scott when he was being too reckless. He was the calm to Scott's wild. Virgil cared, he wasn't afraid to show it.
"So. What about John?" Scott inquired.
"Oh ho. John?" Gordon gave a small laugh. "John's more likely to let you get hurt just to teach you some sort of a lesson, then hand you off to Virgil for care."
Scott raised an eyebrow.
"Ok, like he'll spot you and everything, but he's not afraid to let you make mistakes and experience the consequences." Gordon supplied. "He calls it 'hands-on learning'."
Scott lightly laughed. Yeah, that sounded like John. John who was always listening and was just a bit more observant than his other brothers. John who was happy to stand back and let his younger brothers experience life. John who was always there, even if not physically. John who probably knew what was going on with Virgil and Alan but wasn't letting on.
Scott wanted to make some sort of comment about Gordon's observation of their brother, but the side door on 'Two began to open and Gordon leaped to his feet. As they both made their way over, Scott could have sworn he heard Gordon mumble "It's about time." But, hey, Scott wasn't going to say anything.
Scott had actually stopped keeping track of how much time had passed when he had begun talking to Gordon. He wasn't sure how Gordon did it, but talking to him tended to lighten his mood ever so slightly. Yes, Scott was still worried, but he didn't quite feel the need to so urgently command control.
A very tired looking Virgil stepped out into the hanger. In his arms, he carried a… a child? OK. Scott wasn't expecting that. Concern grew in the pit of his stomach. The kid wasn't moving. He was wearing, from what Scott could see, socks that were way too big and Virgil's flannel, which was also way too big.
Everyone stared at each other. Scott wanted to say something, ask questions, check on Virgil, something. But the words just wouldn't come out. He found himself staring at the child instead. Something was oh so familiar about this kid.
Then Gordon let out a howl of laughter, "Is that Alan!?". Gordon paused his laughing just enough for Virgil to give a slight nod.
Scott's eyes widened as he took in the situation. The kid in Virgil's arms, Gordon's outburst, the lack of a fully grown Alan, and the guilty, remorseful look on Virgil's face. It all clicked together with crashing realization.
Gordon set off again, clutching his sides as he tried to reel in his laughter. "Oh, man! Leave it to Alan to go on a simple in and out rescue, and end up in a situation that shouldn't even be possible!"
Dammit Alan.
