Sineater asks: For Whumptober, 7. Silent Panic Attack - with Alan please.

He'd been at the kitchen table, once more undergoing death-by-Chaucer. Alan had thought Shakespeare was bad enough, but Chaucer was in another league altogether.

The klaxon sounding was a huge relief, and Alan shot up to the command centre to see what the rescue was, fingers crossed that he would be needed.

John's smile for him was apologetic though, and the fifteen-year-old stifled a sigh. Not his day then. Alan flopped onto a couch and tuned out the words while he tried to come up with a reason to abandon his schooling. Until that word was used and suddenly he was all ears.

'Two climbers have been caught out by a severe weather front moving in, causing visibility to drop to practically zero and no safe way to make it anywhere. They have hunkered down in their tent, but the high winds mean that they are still in danger. The sudden change in weather has also caused the local rescue services to be put on avalanche alert.

'Scott, I don't think you should risk One in this. I suggest you three take Two, she'll handle the winds better.'

'FAB, John. Thunderbirds are go.'

Alan watched his three brothers disappear in their respective chutes before turning to John.

'Alan? Are you alright?'

'Sure, John.'

John raised a quizzical eyebrow but didn't push it, which Alan was thankful for. He didn't tell Alan to get back to his schoolwork and he left the comms open so he could hear Virgil running through the preflight checks.

And then it hit him.

He suddenly felt dizzy. Alan was so pleased he was already sitting down because if he had been standing he would surely have collapsed, and John didn't need that. The dizziness didn't dissipate but was joined by pins and needles in his arms and legs.

Alan was vaguely aware that John was talking, but he couldn't work out what was being said. It was like the room was turning into a tunnel, everything was becoming distorted, reminding Alan of some of those weird paintings Virgil sometimes did. He'd once done Alan with one eye above the other and his lips next to his nose. Alan kinda felt like that now…

Unbidden, visions of snow bearing down on his brothers began to assault him, and he found his heart was racing. In fact, it felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest if he didn't do something, but much as he tried to call out for help, he simply couldn't. His throat had closed up and he couldn't speak.

All Alan could do was sit there and hope that this would pass.

Someone was prying his hands off his knees. They held his hands as something warm and metallic was placed in them, not letting go. Warmth flooded his fingers, spreading up his arms and unsticking him.

Sounds came back next. John's voice, although Alan still couldn't understand him. The voice was as warm as the cup he was holding. Another voice had joined in, gentle and full of love, and Alan found he could blink.

Grandma.

Grandma was beside him, arm over his shoulders. John was in front of him, actually there, holding his hands around the enamel mug. He opened his mouth to talk, but still nothing came out.

Chocolate. The mug had cocoa in it, he could smell it now. Alan wasn't sure he should risk drinking it, but the smell soothed him too.

All at once Alan relaxed, sinking back into the couch and against his Grandma. John took away the mug and sat on Alan's other side, his hand on his arm.

'That's it kiddo. Breathe in. Breathe out. Everything is alright.'

Huh. He could breathe. His heart was slowing too. Alan took in a big breath and turned wet eyes on his brother. John smiled.

'You're ok now, Alan.'

'Wha-what happened?'

'You had a panic attack, a silent one.'

'A silent one?'

'Yeah. No outward sign, but you suddenly went still and rigid and I knew. I've had a few myself so I recognised what was happening.'

'But the rescue!'

'EOS is handling it fine.'

'And everyone is alright?'

'Everyone is fine, Alan.'

He relaxed even further.

But then the alarm sounded and Virgil was yelling and all hell broke loose around him.