He was at a crossroads of wanting the cold to numb the pain in his side and wishing the cold would lessen, giving Scott a chance to warm up. Dying from hypothermia or oxygen deprivation didn't sit well with him in either situation. Blinking the tank gauge into focus told him he still had plenty of air left. He just had to hope the cold and stabbing ache didn't get him first.
A shiver shook through his frame and he couldn't hold back a hissed curse, clinging to Gordon's hand to anchor him through the spike. It didn't stay long, each breath easing enough of the pain that the next one had him sagging in the chair. His eyes slid shut as he concentrated, evening the gasps back unto a steady rhythm that didn't threaten to send the small space spinning.
"Sorry," was all he could offer against the fatigue that had been nudging him since waking up on the floor of Thunderbird 4. He gave the hand a gentler squeeze.
Gordon didn't squeeze back.
Crystal blue flew wide, the elder brother turning to find the aquanaut motionless in the seat.
Adrenaline acted like an instant painkiller, the ache nonexistent as Scott shoved his shoulder restraints up to stand. He had Gordon's face between his hands a moment later. Not even a flicker of emotion and a slight tinge of blue was creeping over his lips. It was all Scott needed to scoop the helmet from where it lay and maneuver it over the blonde waves. When it latched against his brother's suit, he might have twisted the valve harder than was necessary. The hiss of oxygen was his reward, but that was all as he waited. And slowly, ever so slowly, the ache in his chest began to return.
"C'mon, Fish," Scott breathed as though the action would encourage Gordon to do the same. His mind began to race as his brother showed no sign of consciousness, no rise and fall of starved lungs. Can't give respirations… compressions only… get him to the floor, his inner voice commanded and Gordon was slipping into his arms the moment the restraints were lifted.
Ignoring the daggers in his side, Scott slid the smaller figure to the floor. Still nothing and he didn't hesitate to roll Gordon to his back, placing hand over hand against the center of his chest.
Only then did he stop, blue eyes pleading for any sign of life, Don't you dare, little brother… a breath and Scott pushed down with enough force to send the remaining carbon dioxide out of Gordon's lungs. Back up and he prayed it was enough to pull in the oxygen filling the helmet. Another pump and a gasp echoed around the submarine, taking Scott's heart with it as he scurried off his brother's chest to lean over him.
"Gordon!" His own respirations were making him lightheaded, but he didn't dare take his eyes off the sluggish lids as more choked gasps followed the first. "C'mon, kiddo, deep breaths," because he didn't care how much air they used as long as Gordon woke up.
"D'mmit," a wheezed curse as amber eyes blinked open, once limp arms lifting to find purchase that wasn't needed. One hand clumsily caught the brunette's arm and clung, "Scott?"
"Take it easy, Gords. You ran out of air," his own supply reminded him to slow down as Scott's vision swam for a brief moment.
The aquanaut let out a low groan, eyes pinching shut, "That sucks - killer headache."
Scott could only smile, "Better than the alternative."
"Mmm…" Gordon's forehead creased with the need to ease the ache under his helmet.
Sympathy brought Scott's hand to the one on his arm, taking it with a gentle squeeze, "Take your time. Oxygen's gonna need a few minutes to cycle enough to your brain."
"Is that so, Doc?" A grin told of the progress already being made and it wasn't too surprising when pressure grew in his hand as the blonde pushed himself up.
"Whoa! Gordon, you need to -" Scott had been ready to force his brother back down, but it seemed recovery was hitting Gordon faster than the pilot's reflexes could react. He watched with growing frustration as his brother clambered to his feet, dragging the air tank with him. "What are you doing?"
"Grasping at straws," came back to him through grit teeth as Gordon jerked open a panel to the exosuit. The pilot shifted, trying to get a better view of the equipment that was being wrenched free from the mechanical arms that held it in place. A sharp "come on" preceded the chest piece falling to the floor with a loud smack.
"Not helping, Gordon," Scott groaned as the adrenaline from earlier faded and left behind the reminder of his busted ribs.
"Before I passed out, I had an idea to buy us more time… plenty of time, actually," he spoke as he worked, adjusting the flow of the oxygen tanks to something Scott assumed was more reasonable before moving to the helm.
"Anything I can do to help?" The brunette wasn't ashamed to admit he felt pretty useless, more of a hindrance despite saving his brother from suffocation.
"See if you can get the other pieces of my suit out," Gordon offered without hesitation, much to Scott's relief. It was something to focus on and a very real thing he could do. Why his brother needed the suit had yet to be an important question.
He hadn't realized how low their light had faded until there was a crack of a glowstick, sending a greyish blue over the exosuit hatches. Gordon's voice now rang with optimism, "So glad I decided to load up on these. Alright, let's hope this works."
Glancing over his shoulder, Scott saw his brother sitting with the chest piece in his lap like an unopened Christmas present. The cables from the generator were in his hand as he fiddled with the equipment and suddenly the commander's brain was connecting the dots, "The O2 recycling unit? But how are you gonna get it to work without water?"
"That'll be the tricky part," a soft cry of success as the power supply opened. "I'll need to flood Thunderbird 4."
"That's a bit dramatic," a tug and a panel opened to reveal a singular gauntlet, "don't you think?"
Gordon let out a sad chuckle, "Y'know me… always gotta be dramatic."
It didn't take a clear head to see the pain flicker across the aquanaut's face at the implication. Scott paused his efforts to remove the gauntlet in order to regard his brother. His jaw had clenched, lips thinning with what could be construed as concentration, but Scott knew. He knew when a joke had been made too often. Knew how much Gordon had gone through to let the dig slide.
With quiet sincerity, he hoped to break the hold on his brother, "This isn't your fault, Fish. You know that."
Gordon's hands stilled for a moment before continuing their task. A quiet "I know" followed, but the emotions remained visible. "Yet, here we are. My 'bird, on the bottom of the ocean, and I'm about to flood her… for what? The third time in two years? Maybe less? She's been rebuilt twice. Who else can say that about their Thunderbird?"
It was true - painfully so - but that still didn't mean Gordon was at fault. Refocusing on the gear he was attempting to extract, Scott tried another route, "So she's not a tank like Two or as fast as One. She doesn't need to be. You and Four are our best option when it comes to water rescues… And maybe that's the problem." Their eyes met with the admission, "Gordon, the ocean is a whole different world that the other Thunderbirds can't be a part of. Not even Two can manage it for long. It means,whatever trouble you run into, you're facing it on your own. And, if I'm being honest, that's terrifying. Yet, you keep going and I can't decide if I should be proud or lock you on the island." Gordon's expression shifted from intent listening to confusion and Scott held up a hand to prevent any argument his comments had stirred, "What I'm saying is, we need to make damn sure you've got everything you need. If that means reinforcing her hull or giving you more options for defense…" no matter what those options were, "then that's what we're gonna do."
Amber eyes regarded him for a long moment, the silence growing thick as Scott waited for a response. A blink and the corner of his brother's lip ticked up,"Thanks, Scott."
He nodded, content that his addled brain could still come up with something to help. Returning to his task, Scott pulled the gauntlet out and set it by his brother's knee, cautiously turning to start on the next.
"A minifridge?"
"A what?" The brunette paused, not sure he'd heard correctly. When it was repeated, he frowned, "How is a minifridge going to help?"
"The question is, what would it hurt?" The weight in Gordon's voice had lifted, leaving the jovial tone in its wake. "I get tired of MRE's when I'm stuck in here for days at a time."
"Gordon, that's not exactly what I meant," but the comment had alleviated enough of the stress to loosen the knots in his shoulders. As much as he disliked them, jokes kept Gordon sharp. If he was grinning, it meant trouble and, right now, that's what they needed to bring the people coming after them.
They went back to work, more pieces of the suit joining the others while Gordon connected wires to his potential lifeline. Scott was already moving onto the hatch that held the leg pieces when the blonde disappeared into the space he'd opened earlier. One glance at the chestplate showed that it was ready for the plan to proceed. Without warning, a sharp pop and hiss tore through the silence before Gordon scrambled back out.
"I'm assuming that was supposed to happen?" The sight of water flowing into the cabin was unnerving, but the quick nod from the aquanaut eased Scott's concern.
"Sorry. Shoulda warned you. Don't wanna use any more oxygen than I need to," amber eyes were on the gear as he spoke, turning the chestplate over to activate the recycling system. Lights blinked on, "Yes! We've got power!" Another flashed red, "No oxygen detected, but we already knew that. Once the water's high enough, we'll be able to test it."
"Alright," Scott flashed him a dimpled smile. "Good work, Gordon."
His brother's smile grew with relief, but his words were cautious, "I'm hoping the flow is slow enough that it doesn't fill Four too quickly or this'll be pointless. You'll want to get above the water. It's already freezing in here, don't wanna speed up hypothermia if we can help it."
"FAB," that wouldn't be a problem once they lowered one of the drytube beds. "What about you?"
A gesture to the exosuit parts already piled on the floor, "I'll be fine."
Scott wanted to argue. How often had he heard that line or given it himself when things were quite the opposite? Instead, he swallowed the words, watching the determination on his little brother's face. Through a strained smile, Scott offered the only thing he could, "Get suited up. I'll finish getting the rest."
OoOoOoO
The sea churned with his gut - or was it the other way around? Virgil wanted to concentrate on his pointless, internal question. Anything to keep his mind off the fire raging through his abdomen, but as they careened down an unseen wave, he couldn't help clutching at the bandage. The wet, ineffective gauze had already succumbed to the flow.
"H-here," Brains' voice was low, strained with his own stomach's urgency. Blinking up at the scientist, Virgil found a handful of cloth bundled in the one hand not gripping a railing.
"Thanks," taking the material, he slid it under his hand and pressed it into the aching wound.
The boat interrupted the response, forcing them both to hold tight as the waves threatened to capsize them. Virgil's thoughts immediately turned towards his father still on deck, manning a wheel that was likely fighting his every effort. It was a job that the second eldest should've been doing, not a man still recovering from years in space.
Another roll of the waves and Virgil's head spun. The decision had been made for him and no amount of arguing would sway Jeff Tracy from getting the boat to safety on his own.
Just a little longer and they'd be at Raoul, Mel ready to chew them out for even attempting to sail through a storm. She would understand once they explained everything, though, and with any luck, they would be able to call for help. That prospect alone helped spur them on, regardless of the danger.
Virgil's thoughts drifted to the last time he'd been at the research outpost, accompanying his little brother and the updated power system the aquanaut had promised. It had been a welcome break from rescues and he'd been more than happy to help with the installation, along with some other much needed maintenance. As payment, they'd been treated to a beach cookout and amicable company. Gordon and Sam provided exaggerated tales for much of the entertainment until the sun set to reveal the starry view both islands shared. It was a peaceful memory that drew his mind from the pain and imminent arrival in a sea storm.
A wave lifted them high and Virgil imagined he was on a surfboard by Gordon's side, ready to ride the wave down towards a beach of friends. He held tight for the rush that he knew would follow and then, the door burst open with the roar of wind and rain and his father's voice.
The words were lost to the cacophony, but the fear behind the warning covered the older man's face. Brace…
One hand gripped the bar, the other reaching out for his father.
And then the ship rolled, water replacing the figure in the doorway and Virgil screamed. He let go - let the water swirl around him until it filled the small boat with darkness. The world rushed with the waves until he felt hands grabbing his arm and dragging him. When Virgil's shoulder hit a wall, survival instinct took over and he found another railing, doing his best to get them out of the flooded boat.
Brains… he had to be hanging onto the scientist, because… because Dad was gone.
Pushing and kicking through the pain, Virgil's head burst through the surface and he took in a choked gasp, unable to hear the ones next to him. The iron grip on his arm reassured the engineer that his friend wasn't about to let go.
All around them, the ocean rose and fell as lightning brightened the churning sea spray and with a stab of despair, Virgil realized they were going to need a miracle just before another wave crashed over them.