Tapping his fingers on the console impatiently, John glared at the terminal before him and sighed heavily. He was just considering sending an emergency signal to get a faster response when the connection then finally opened.
"Hey, dude!" Scott smiled merrily. "What's up?"
"You took long enough to answer." John grumbled in annoyance. "What happened to checking in on me? So much for me being needed!"
Scott's smile faded slightly. "We've all been busy helping with the security upgrades and stuff. You know that."
"I guess," John sighed.
"I thought you wanted things to get back to how they were?" Scott ventured carefully.
John snorted derisively, "Yeah, I just love to spend endless days up here with no contact from the island!"
"Sorry, dude." Scott frowned. "It hasn't been that long, though – Virg said he called you last night."
John froze suddenly and checked the clock on the screen beside him. "That wasn't yesterday."
"Yeah, it was!" Scott laughed gently and shook his head slowly. "Dude, you're losing - " He stopped himself, his concern returning. "John … you okay?"
"No."
Scott was quiet for a long moment, watching his brother's tired face and suddenly noticing the tears that John seemed to be holding back. "Maybe I should go get Dad."
"No!" John shouted quickly, "No, I'm okay …I … I just wanted to talk to someone."
Scott nodded slowly, his frown growing. "Sure. I'm here."
"Thanks." John smiled thinly. "Hey, I think I was kind of short with Virgil last night – or whenever it was. Is he okay?"
"Yeah." Scott shrugged, "He mentioned something about you being tired and cranky but he didn't seem too bothered. I am, though – it's not like you."
"I know." John groaned, "It just hasn't been a good week."
"That's an understatement!" Scott chuckled.
"I know. I'm just … well, I'm not coping so well right now."
"Oh." Scott fidgeted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the deep and meaningful way this chat seemed to be heading. He then laughed gently and raised his eyebrows in interest. "I thought there would be at least one evening worthy of some cheer!"
"Yeah … well …" John sighed. "It seems I fucked that up as well."
"Oh?"
"Too much, too soon." John replied quietly, "Seems it was too intense."
"She brush you off, dude?"
John nodded sullenly.
"Oh shit … I'm sorry … you really liked her, too."
"We talked for hours and it was so good … we really clicked and just hearing her voice was … well …now it's back to panic attacks and no sleep."
"Don't let Dad hear you say that – he'll have you back here in a flash!"
"Maybe that wouldn't be so bad." John responded quietly.
Scott's cheer faded and he frowned down at John. "Seriously?"
John took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "No."
"Because I think he would come get you if you asked him to." Scott urged.
"No." John shook his head determinedly and managed another half smile. "Oh Scott, stop being so god-damned sympathetic!"
"With pleasure!" Scott chuckled merrily, "Pull yourself together, you big baby!"
"Suck it in and get over it." John offered lightly.
"Yeah!" Scott enthused, "Be the man you are and not the cartoon character you look like!"
John laughed loudly, "Good one, bro'!"
Scott beamed proudly.
"Hey, you've not called me 'Mighty White' for a while."
"Or Bleached Wonder." Scott agreed in amusement, "Mr. Bathroom Rinse, UV, Dances with Glow bugs! And what was that one that Gordon came up with?"
"Captain John Cleaner."
"Yeah!" Scott declared happily.
"It's tough to be surrounded by such genius." John groaned.
Scott's laughter slowly calmed and he saw again the sadness behind John's smile. "You sure you don't want me to come up there?"
"You wouldn't last an hour!"
"I would too!" Scott defended defiantly.
"No way!" John laughed in wonder, "You haven't got the patience."
"I have."
John gasped in disbelief. "You so have not! And besides, someone else would then have to fly Thunderbird 1."
Scott froze suddenly and sank back against his seat. "Sorry, buddy … you're on your own!"
"Thought as much!" John grinned and shook his head slowly. "All mouth and no action."
"Excuse me?!" Scott demanded in mock horror. "I think a few ladies would disagree with you on that one!"
"So you say! Personally, I doubt the quick tumbles you prefer are hardly the scene for anyone classed as a lady!"
Scott stared open-mouthed at his brother and seemed unable to come up with a suitable reply.
"And, while we're on the subject, the idea of you alone up here with nothing but yourself to play with drags all sorts of nasty images to mind." John giggled.
"Dude!" Scott groaned and then a wide grin spread across his face. "I take it you haven't opened present five then."
"No." John frowned, "Why?"
"Nothing."
"Scott? What have you done?"
"Nothing." Scott shrugged innocently and then looked down away from the screen. "I would do it though."
"What?"
"If you needed me to, I'd do your tour for you." Scott answered quietly, keeping his eyes averted from the screen.
John nodded slowly. "I know. Thanks." He took a deep breath and stretched his arms above his head with a loud yawn. "Well, I can't sit here chatting all day – things to see, people to do!"
Scott laughed and glanced back at the screen.
"Thanks, Scott. You've cheered me up."
"Anytime, bro'." Scott nodded. "Later."
"Thunderbird 5 out." John confirmed and quickly ended the transmission. For a moment he sat in silence and stared at the blank screen where his brother's face had just been. After a minute or so the first tears began to form and he sank forward, folding his arms on the console and resting his head there with a sigh.
So. It had begun. And after the distraction of rebuilding the station and the comfort he had found in Alex's company, this was horrible.
John had slowly slipped from the chair onto the floor and now found himself leaning back against the console, hugging his knees to his chest. Crying pulled at the healing muscles across his back and was now grating his painfully dry throat but he just could not stop.
It was inevitable. He was bound to enter this stage at some point. But somehow he had been fooled into thinking that perhaps he was going to bypass this and move from not coping to magically coping, without the pitiful blubbering between.
At first his loud sobs had echoed disconcertingly around the empty station and he had tried to keep quiet. But that made his chest hurt and after a while he remembered that there was, after all, no one up here to disturb.
So now he had lost control. His mind was empty of everything except an almost physical pain from the trauma of everything that he had tried to deal with since the missile had struck the station. And he howled.
After a while he began to grow quieter in his weeping, not through choice but simply because he was fast running out of energy. He slumped onto his side and curled up fetal-like on the anti-grav plating, tucking one of his tightly clenched fists under his cheek to form some sort of protection from the hard metal floor. If he was sensible, he could have moved to the bedroom but his heavy limbs, exhausted from crying, would not respond.
Wailing had now been replaced with the slight moan that caught in his throat with each breath and the occasional hiccup of a sob. John lay there on his side and gradually some sense of thought began to gently return to his mind but all it did was let him mull over one word. Lonely.
It was not a new sensation. He had considered the isolation of his role before but it had never seemed quite so apparent, not until he had tasted what it was like to really enjoy the company of another person.
God, he wished Alex was there now. It was an irrational, illogical need to have her near and he could not understand it. It wasn't that he was deeply in love – not that he would perhaps really know if he was – nor that he needed her there for more physical reasons. It was just a connection that he felt and a peace that he gained from her presence. And it was addictive.
Perhaps it was better that she had pulled away. Perhaps it was not healthy to use her as some sort of wonder drug to combat the turmoil he was going through. Perhaps he had to get through this on his own and then find her again. Perhaps, as she had said, if she helped him deal with all this now and then left at some time in the future then the consequences would be worse.
But what could possibly be worse than this? John paused suddenly in his rhythmic whimpering and frowned in thought as he remembered that he had felt like this before. Fresh tears gathered as he was suddenly filled with painful memories of a time so familiar and he could not hold them at bay.
"Mom …"
It was beneath his breath and barely audible but he knew he had said it. And the sobbing began anew. Quieter this time because he was too worn-out to repeat the previous breakdown but no less painful.
Hush, my angel …John's heart slammed against his chest as he slowly registered the voice that had whispered close to his ear. He held his breath and dared not move. What was this? A memory? An illusion?
Don't cry … it was just a bad dream … I'm here …John closed his eyes tightly and bit his lip in an attempt to hold back the sob that rose in his throat as he felt the touch. Someone was stroking his hair. But who? He knew the voice but how could she be here? It couldn't be a ghost – she had never seen the station, let alone stepped aboard.
My beautiful, intelligent son … you think too much … trust me … just let it go …He wanted to open his eyes and see if it really was her but something told him that this would shatter the illusion and the voice was helping him, after all. Even if it did mean he was finally and absolutely losing the plot, it felt good.
Shh … it'll be okay …John lay still and finally took a breath. Her gentle fingers moved through his hair and occasionally brushed the side of his face, lovingly stroking his skin as she had every night when he was a child. Dad would tell them a story and fill their minds with wonder as he described the stars and the adventures he exaggerated for them. Mom would perch on the edge of the bed and spend a few moments with each of them, soothing them to sleep.
John let out a long sigh and could feel his body begin to relax. It was an odd place to fall asleep but moving now would destroy the image and he sank back against the console. Except it wasn't the console, it was Mom sitting behind him on his bed and now he could even feel the slight incline from her weight on his mattress.
That's it … let it go … forget it all … sleep …"Okay …" John muttered under his breath, "Okay, Mom." He let her presence wash over him and slowly his mind cleared of everything except her; the warmth of her hand and the slight scent of her perfume.
After a time he wanted to take her hand, just as he once would have done; a gentle reassuring squeeze of her fingers and he would be asleep. He moved his arm and reached up instinctively, gasping as his trembling fingers brushed against his own hand.
"Shit!" John sat up quickly and stared down at his hands, his breath coming in quick gasps. "Oh shit! Oh shit! I'm losing it! I'm fucking losing it!" He closed his eyes and tightly squeezed away the last of his tears before then wiping his face on his sleeve. John rested his head back and banged his head against the console repeatedly, trying to somehow knock the images from his mind. The action hurt and he groaned in annoyance. "Come on, get with it, John!" He chided himself and shook his head in dismay. "Don't let this happen!"
John's legs were weak beneath him as he grabbed the chair and pulled himself up onto his feet. Shuddering slightly at the memory of the hallucination, John stumbled through to the bathroom and hurried over to the sink. He splashed his face with cold water and groaned into the soft material of the hand towel as he patted his skin dry.
With a sigh, John stood up straight and that was when he saw her. The breath was torn from his body before he could cry out and he stared at the face in the mirror. His heart was thumping in his ears and he steadied himself against the sink.
Somehow he summoned enough courage to turn slowly and look behind him. He groaned a confusing mixture of relief and disappointment as he saw that there was no one there.
"Shit!" John sighed into the empty bathroom and timidly turned back to look at his reflection. His own lone image gazed back at him and he frowned in confusion.
That was it, then. He was nuts. Completely nuts.
John fell to his knees on the bathroom floor and his shoulders sank heavily. He would have to call his Dad and tell him. Suddenly panic rose from somewhere inside John and he reached up to grip the basin above him as his head span dizzily. How could he let everyone down like this? What was his father going to say? What if he didn't believe him? What if he never got off the station? What if the ghost came back? What if he really was insane?
With a groan, John crawled quickly over to the toilet and heaved up the little he had managed for breakfast.
John was unsure how long he had sat in a crumpled heap beside the toilet but he did know that he was beginning to ache from being in the same awkward position. He knew he ought to move but when he tried to he was only faced with another wave of nausea and the dry retching of his long since empty stomach was getting sore.
It was only when a gentle bleeping from somewhere beyond the bathroom slowly filtered through John's confused thoughts that he decided he had to move. He pulled himself to his feet and, glancing warily around the empty station, made his way through to the comm. He checked the clock and realised that it was over five hours since Scott had called and everything had gone Twilight Zone.
"John." Jeff greeted firmly. "Why have we only got audio?"
"I'm still tinkering with a few systems and it's off temporarily." John responded calmly and glanced down at the specks of vomit on his suit.
"Oh. Okay."
"It's fine, Dad. It'll be back online soon." John continued steadily.
"You okay?"
John closed his eyes and shook his head, fighting back fresh tears. "Not really."
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know." John replied quietly. "I think I need to come down."
"Oh."
"I'm … erm … I'm not doing so well today, Dad." John managed, his voice cracking.
"I see."
John sighed loudly and hung his head, wanting desperately to receive the consoling that he had witnessed his father give Alan and not the seemingly cold professionalism he was receiving now.
"Scott did say something about you feeling somewhat low."
"That's an understatement."
"Is that why video is off?"
John closed his eyes. "Yeah."
Silence.
"I'm really not feeling well." John urged carefully. "You did say that if I needed to come down then …"
"I know." Jeff sighed loudly, "But that was before - " he paused and there again was another heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, John. I can't spare anyone to come up there."
The news slammed into John and he could hardly breathe. "What?" He managed after a moment. "What? Why?"
"It's just not a good time, John."
John gasped and slammed his fist against the console in sudden fury. "Well, I'm sorry to be an inconvenience! God! What the hell is that supposed to mean? If I knew I had to fit a bad day into your schedule then I would have! Shit, Dad!" John flicked off the connection and stood to jog a few steps away from the console. He dragged his hands through his hair and let them rest on the back of his neck for a moment while he tried to steady his temper. Temper? Where the hell had that come from?
John turned and watched the incoming transmission request blinking pleadingly on the computer terminal. After a few minutes, he groaned and headed back over to the comm. Switching on video as well this time, John sighed and shook his head to convey his apology.
Jeff recoiled slightly from the sight of his pale, tired son and a frown settled over his brow. "I need you, John." He began quietly, "I need you up there."
John nodded slightly and closed his eyes. "I know. I'm sorry."
"I promise I'll come get you as soon as I can." Jeff urged. "But until all this is over, I just can't spare anyone."
John jerked his head up and frowned in confusion. "Until what is over?"
"It's why I called." Jeff began, "The police are moving the Hood to a different prison tomorrow morning."
"What? Why?" John demanded worriedly.
"It seems there's a specialist prison about an hour outside London and they want him there for a more thorough assessment."
"Assessment?!" John gasped, "What is there to assess?"
Jeff shrugged slightly, "They feel that he's psychologically unstable."
"No shit!" John laughed despite himself and then suddenly remembered something Alex had said. "Wait … you mean he's playing the insanity card and will never face charges?" His heart raced as he watched his father shrug in uncertainty. "No way! No fucking way!" John shouted, regretting it instantly as he saw his father flinch at the use of the profanity.
"I know." Jeff sighed, "But it's out of our hands."
"Is it?"
Jeff's frown grew and he shook his head in warning. "I know you're not thinking anything like that."
John groaned and slumped back in his chair. "I guess."
Jeff watched his son for a moment and his scowl softened a little. "Kyrano and Onaha have taken the kids off island for a break." He continued, "Scott and I are taking Thunderbird 1 to track the convoy and make damned sure he is delivered safely to the new prison."
John nodded in understanding, "Which leaves Brains in charge and Gord and Virg on standby with Thunderbird 2."
"Exactly. I need you to keep every channel open. I want the police bands, civilian traffic and media channels under constant scrutiny. If someone's going to make a move, I want to know about it yesterday."
John sat up straight and took a deep breath. "F.A.B., Dad."
"I know that British Intelligence captured the sub but I wouldn't put anything past this guy. I want to be one step ahead of him."
"You got it."
Jeff allowed a brief smile to cross his tight lips and nodded slightly. "That's my boy."
John ignored the brief flashback to his hallucination that his father's words caused and smiled a reply.
"And I swear we'll come and get you as soon as this is done."
"Thanks, Dad." John shrugged, "But, with something to focus on, I might be okay."
"I hope so." Jeff smiled.
John closed the connection and hung his head, trying to stay calm and in control. Gritting his teeth in determination, he sat back up and began to create the links he would need to open in order to keep tracks of everything that was happening. He frowned as a new transmission came through and he quickly opened a channel.
"My god, John – you look awful!" Penelope gasped in horror.
"Thanks." John managed something of a smile.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." John shrugged, keeping his eyes down and away from her worried expression.
"John." Penelope urged.
"It's nothing!" John sighed and somehow managed to look straight up at her. "This is normal. After a few days artificial gravity has this effect on me."
"Well, I don't believe a word of that!" Penelope scoffed but her frown then softened and she nodded slightly. "But if you don't want to talk then I respect that."
"Thanks." John husked and then quickly cleared his throat. "What's up?"
"I just got off the phone with Commissioner Browning - "
"Charlie!" John exclaimed merrily.
"Indeed." Penelope blushed slightly.
"It's a bit late for him to call." He wondered aloud.
"It's only eleven o'clock and I called him!" Penelope retorted and then laughed softly. "And since when did I have a curfew?!" She shook her head slowly and then took a deep breath. "Anyway. I was calling to tell you that the Hood - "
"Is being transferred tomorrow morning." John nodded, "I know. Dad just called. He said it's some home for psychos or something."
"Broadmoor." Penelope nodded, "It's where all the best insane murderers go."
"He didn't actually kill anyone." John countered evenly, confused as to why he was suddenly defending him.
"But he tried." Penelope shrugged, "And it seems his preaching about being on a higher plane to the rest of us has done him no good whatsoever!" She chuckled softly. "But the main thing is that the staff there have experience in dealing with pleasant characters such as him."
John nodded in understanding.
"That's not why I called, though." Penelope added carefully. "John … Alex is part of the convoy."
John swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat and clenched his fists.
"I thought you would want to know."
"Why?"
Penelope frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Why would I want to know?" John slowly looked back up at the screen and sighed angrily. "What good could possibly come of me knowing that?"
"Because you care about her."
"And look what good that did!" John scoffed.
"What do you mean?"
"Alex isn't interested, Pen! In conversation or friendship or anything else I might have to offer."
"Oh." Penelope groaned softly. "Oh, I'm so sorry, John."
"She says I'm too far away." John sighed, "And, boy, do I feel it sometimes."
Penelope nodded in empathy.
"So … great … now I get to sit and watch while she escorts some dangerous psycho who might be capable of just about anything."
"John, I didn't know! I thought - "
"I know, I know." John agreed quietly.
Penelope groaned again and shook her head slowly. "She's such a fool!" She watched John frown in confusion and she smiled fondly. "I don't think she really understands what she's giving up."
"Thanks, Pen."
"I'm serious!" Penelope urged, "Maybe someone should have a word. I'm trailing the convoy tomorrow, I could ask Parker to pull alongside and I'll tell her how silly she's being."
"No, it's okay." John smiled. "But I appreciate the thought."
"Anytime, dude."
John laughed loudly and stared at Penelope in amused horror. "Did you just call me 'dude'?!"
"Do you know, I dobelieve I just may have." Penelope grinned. "See what a bad influence you boys are on me?"
"Well, we do try." John chuckled, "Oh, Pen, that's made my day! See ya!"
"Cheerio."
Hey guys! Huge thank you for all your positive feedback.
So this chapter has dug yet even further into poor John's emotional trauma and it's all a bit depressing! But I sense that you appreciate the realism that I'm trying to stick with - and it's also crucial tothe plot. There'll be a change of pace soon and John will have something to seriously pull his mindback from the brink when it all kicks off in the next installment.