Chapter 19

"Mr. Tracy?" asked the doctor.

"Gordon," he replied. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"Leonard. Michael Leonard."
"Pleased to meet you," said Gordon, acerbically.

"I'm sorry, but with the drama earlier, there wasn't really time for introductions."
Gordon's mood softened. "Yeah. Thanks."

"We've done all the tests we can think of on John."
"And?"

"I'm afraid his brain was too badly damaged."
"What do you mean?"

Brains put his hand on Gordon's shoulder.
"I mean that John will never wake up."
Gordon breathed in sharply. "But he's not dead?"
"No, but the machines are keeping him alive. His heart could stop again at any time."
"Oh God!" sobbed Gordon. "So what do we do?"
"We can call a special vehicle from the mainland to take him to the hospital."
"So let's do it!" Gordon clapped his hands.

"He will be totally dependent on the machines. He will never recover and probably never come home, Gordon. If he does it will be in the same state he left in."

"What else?"

"We can disconnect him from the ventilator, and let him go peacefully."
"What?"

"Without the oxygen support machine, he will stop breathing."
"Won't that be like suffocating?" said Gordon, anxiously.
"He won't feel a thing."
Gordon panted hard for a few minutes. "What will happen if we leave him connected to the machines, and keep him here?" he asked.

"Like I said, his heart could stop at any time. But we can't stay here forever to take care of him."
"We'll pay for whomever from wherever."
The doctor put his hand on Gordon's shoulder. "You don't understand, Mr. Tracy-"
"Gordon!"

"Gordon. It's hopeless. I'm sorry to be blunt, but that's the way it is."

Gordon sank into a chair with his hands clasped together, and cried inconsolably. Brains perched on the arm of the chair and put his arm around Gordon.

"What do you think we should do, Dr. Leonard?"

"I think it would be fairest to let John go."

Brains turned back to Gordon. "Maybe it would be best if we-" he stammered, but Gordon interrupted him.
"No! No! No! It's not what he would want. It's not what Dad would want. John would want to keep going until the end. You know it, Brains!"

"I understand," said the doctor. "But there's nothing more we can do here."

"Then get out!" screamed Gordon. "Go on, go!" He then hugged his knees to his chest and buried his head.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Leonard," stammered Brains.

"Don't worry, Mr-"
"Hackenbacker."
"He's grieving. I understand. But we really have to be going."
"Sure, Doctor."

Brains helped the medical crew pack up, and they left, with Gordon still crying in his chair.

Scott paced up and down in his father's private room. It was stuffy, and the air smelt of bleach. He had been sitting watching and talking to his father for eight hours. He really needed a cigarette. He opened the case in his pocket, and found it empty.
"Damn it!" he said, and threw the case to the floor. He was annoyed; where would he get cigarettes at three o'clock in the morning in a hospital? He sighed. It was painful lounging in a chair waiting for his father to die. He kicked at the wall, feeling angry, distraught and scared all at the same time. Without his father, there would be no more International Rescue. Scott was sure that he could not step up to the plate and take over. Maybe one of the others would. But Thunderbird 5 was wrecked, Virgil and Alan seriously injured, and himself with a broken arm. He was so physically and emotionally drained that he felt like he was melting whenever he stood up. Scott only normally needed four hours of sleep a night, but he had now been awake for almost three days. Scott cried and held his father's hand.

"I'm sorry, Dad! I'm sorry I couldn't save you!" He sobbed. "But you can go now, Dad. We'll be okay. We're all fine."

A nurse came in, opening the door with her back, and Scott hastily dried his eyes. She recorded some notes on Jeff's chart, and turned to leave. But she caught sight of Scott's face.

"Are you alright, Mr. Tracy?" she said, kindly.

"Yeah. Just a little tired," he replied.

She smiled. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

"I don't want to leave in case he- you know –while I'm gone."

She nodded understanding. "I'll get you a cot. You can sleep in here."
"What if something happens?"
"I'll wake you. I promise."
"Thank you!" said Scott.

The nurse did as she had promised, and Scott fell asleep almost immediately.

"Jeff? Jeff?"

"Who's there?"

"You know who it is."
"It can't be."

"It is."
"You're dead!"

"So will you be, if you're not careful."
"What do you mean?"
"Look."
"Is that me?"

"Yes."
"Is that Scott?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"You were hurt trying to save your family, your friends and your dreams."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Oh, yes, I think I remember now. I did it. But at a price."
"John is going to be fine."
"He is?"

"Yes."

"Thank God."
"Indeed."

"Wow. This sure is a strange feeling!"
"I know."
"Where am I?"

"You're right there."
"I'm not here?"
"Not yet."
"How do I get here?"
"You can't come here."
"Why not?"
"They need you."
"They'll be okay without me."
"You have to go back?"
"Why can't I stay here with you?"
"You can't. You have to go back. They need you."
"But I need you!"

"All in good time, Jeff."
"But I want to stay!"
"You can't. They need you."
"The boys will be okay!"
"Not just the boys. Everyone needs you Jeff."
"Everyone?"
"Everyone. And your sons need you too."

"I have to go back?"
"Yes."

"Now?"

"Yes."
"Can't I stay a while?"

"No."
"I'll go back."

"I miss you."
"I know. Goodbye Jeff."
"Goodbye."

Scott was abruptly awakened by the sound of one of the machines making an unkind siren sound. Before he could even get up, the room filled with people, chattering away and hoarding around his father. He fought his way to the head of the bed to find his father's eyes open, and blinking.
"Oh shit! Dad! Shit! Aaah! Haha!" Scott punched the air. Oblivious to the people working all around him.

"I tell you it's a miracle!"
"Two hours ago he was totally unresponsive."
"Yeah, not even a gag reflex!"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I've never seen anything like this before."
"I have, but only once, and they guy wasn't this bright!"

"Hang on, Mr. Tracy, we're going to remove your tube."

Jeff spluttered as they did so, and Scott bent down to his face.
"Welcome back, Dad!" he said, and kissed his father. "What, are you trying to tell me something?" He leaned in closer.

"Language!" whispered Jeff.
"Yes Sir!" said Scott.

Gordon sat on the end of John's bed, looking at his older brother. He spoke to him as if he were talking back. But it was very much a one-way conversation, and Brains stood in the doorway and shook his head.
"Hey, John, why don't I sing you a song? No, Gordon, you can't sing worth a dime! Well I'm going to! When Johnny comes marching home again, hurrah, hurrah, we'll give him a hearty welcome then, hurrah, hurrah, the men will cheer the boys will shout, the ladies they will all turn out et cetera. Hey, shut up, Gordon. No, John, what's the matter? Don't you like ladies? I'll get the boys to turn out if you like. Hey that's real funny, Gordon."

Brains sighed and went to carry on making his repairs.

Two days later, Virgil and Scott were sitting next to their father's bed. Virgil was in his wheelchair. Jeff was now sitting up and talking, if rather slowly.

"Hey, Pop!" said Virgil. "How are you today? Lousy food, huh?"

"Not a patch on Kyrano's!" said Jeff, slurring a little.

"At least they feed you. I've been living on corn dogs and sandwiches for the last three days."
"I'll slip you some of my 'brown splat a la gravy' if you like. I don't want it."
"Suddenly the corn dogs are really appealing."

Jeff smiled and then looked down at his knees.

"How's John?" he said.

Virgil looked at Scott, and Scott closed his eyes. "Hey, Dad!" said Virgil. "They said I can go home soon! I have to get the hang of the crutches first, but then I can go. I told them I could take my physio at home."
"Yeah, and Kyrano can go home tomorrow, too," said Scott.

"What about Alan?" said Jeff.

"He could go home, but he'd need to stay in the sickroom for a while. He's still very weak."
"And John?"
"What about you, Father? Have they said you can go home yet?"
"I want to go too."

"You need to stay here, father. You're sick."

Jeff looked grave. "I've been hit in the head, Scott. I am not an imbecile. The last time I checked, I was in charge around here, and I want to go home."
"But-" started Virgil, but Scott stopped him. He sighed; he thought that he had been distracting Jeff from John, but he had just been annoying him.

"I'll speak to the doctor, Dad."
"Thank you, Scott."

"Dr. Liu, may I speak with you?" asked Scott.

"Of course, Mr. Tracy."

"My father want's to discharge himself."
"But-"

"Look, I'm not saying I think it's a good idea, I'm just asking what would happen if we took him home."
"He needs proper medical care to recover."
"We can provide it at home."
"You can?"
"Yes."
"But why does he want to go?"
"He hates hospitals. He watched my mother die in one."

"I'm sorry."
"Yeah. And there's another reason."
"What."
"My younger brother, John, is at home. He's dying, it's just a matter of time. My father knows that, and wants to be with him."

"I'm sorry, what-"
"He was seriously injured in the raid, but was too unstable to move. He's brain dead. We're just waiting for him to, you know."
"I see."
"Would my father be in danger if we moved him?"
"All his results are fantastic for a man who just came out of a coma. If you really can give him the right care at home, and you call for help at the first sign of trouble, then I guess if he really needs to, he can go."
"Thank you, doctor."
"That's alright Mr. Tracy. You know, I think it is important that he sees your brother. Not being there when he passes away could really hamper his recovery."
"I think so too."

"Gordon! Your family is coming home! Isn't that wonderful?" stammered Brains.

"I guess," replied Gordon, surly.

"Come on, Gordon, you've been sitting in here for days."
"I want to sit here!" snapped Gordon.
Brains felt that he had to take Gordon's mind off the situation. "Come on, Gordon, there's work to do."

"What if something happens to John?"

Brains held up a small device attached to his belt. "This will keep us apprised of his condition. Don't worry, Gordon."

Gordon scowled, but looked into Brains' affectionate eyes, and softened his look. He followed Brains out of the sickroom to help.

Jeff, Virgil, Alan and Kyrano were all able to sit in regular seats for the return journey to Tracy Island. Virgil managed to alight on crutches, Kyrano walked off, and Jeff had to use a wheelchair, much to his chagrin.

"Mother, I can do this myself!" he complained, when Grandma tried to help him.
"Oh, Jeffrey, don't be such a big baby!" she admonished.

Scott snickered.
"I heard that!" said Jeff.

Gordon and Brains had done a good job clearing up the house. All the infiltrator parts had been sealed in a great glass drum in the lab. The doors were repaired, and the place looked as clean and serene as it always had. Virgil was allowed to get up and about, and was soon painting and piano playing, if only with one hand to start with. Kyrano was almost immediately cooking, and making endless cups of coffee, despite warnings from everyone to take it easy. Tin-Tin helped Brains and Gordon to repair the launch machinery for Thunderbird 1, Alan recovered quietly in the sickroom.

John's condition remained unchanged. Jeff kept a constant bedside vigil, and Grandma and Scott tried to shake him out of it.

"Dad, why don't you get some rest. The doctor said to take it easy."

"John could wake up at any time, and I want to be here."
"He's not going to wake up, Father," said Scott.

"Yes, he is. I know he is.," said Jeff, defiantly.

"But the doctor said-" began Scott.

"I know better!" snapped Jeff.

"Jeffrey, why don't you come into the kitchen for a while. I'll make you some lunch," said Grandma, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not hungry, Mother."

"Come on, Dad. You need to take car of yourself. John doesn't even know you're here!" said Scott.

Jeff threw him a cold look. "I shot him, Scott. I shot my own son!" Tears poured from Jeff's eyes. "I sent him up to Thunderbird 5. I let him get those things in him. I brought him back down here, and then I shot him! Now if I want to sit here and wait for him to wake up, who the hell are you to tell me different!" By the time he had finished, Jeff was shouting. Scott had never seen him behave like this.

"But he isn't going to wake up, Father!"

"I know different, Scott. I know he'll wake up."
"How do you know?"
"I just know."