Chapter 20

Jeff Tracy stroked his thick, grey beard. He intertwined his thin fingers behind his unkempt hair, and stretched in his chair.

Grandma came into the sickroom with a tray. "Jeff?"
Jeff did not answer.
"I've brought you some dinner."
"I'm not hungry!" snapped Jeff.

"Come on, Jeff. Why don't you come into the dining room?"
"Mother, we've been over this a thousand times. I can't leave him. What if he wakes up while I'm gone?"
Grandma sighed. She had been hard pressed to get Jeff to even shower or change his clothes. It was a nightmare trying to get him to eat. "Jeff, I-"
"Look, I've made up my mind!" He stood up, and Grandma closed her eyes briefly, as the loose hang of his clothes showed how painfully thin he had become. His beard disguised the thin, sallow face beneath it, but his shirt hung from him, and his trousers were touching the floor.
"Jeff, it's been six months. Maybe it's time to-"
"Time to what?" growled Jeff.

"Nothing," said Grandma, forlornly. She went across the room as if to leave the tray, but thought better of it, and took it back to the kitchen.

Scott was playing tennis with Virgil when Grandma came out to see them.

"Hi, Grandma!" Scott's tone changed when he saw how worried his grandmother looked. "Hey, what's wrong?"
"We need to do something about your father, Scott."
"What?"
"He's still pining for John, waiting for him to wake up after all this time. Could you talk to him?"

"I've talked to him, Grandma. You know he doesn't listen."
"Scott, I'm worried that if we don't break him out of this, we'll end up losing him too."
Scott hung his head.
"And Scott, with Thunderbird 5 operational again, International Rescue is ready to launch. We need to think about how we're going to run things around here without John."
"And without Dad?" said Scott, defiantly.

"I'm sure your father will want to get on with life, but first we have to help him shake this awful depression," said Grandma.

"The doctor gave him some meds!" said Virgil.

"Yeah," said Scott. "But he didn't take them."

"Why not?" asked Virgil.

"I don't know. You know how stubborn he can be. He just mumbled something about it getting in his way," said Scott.

"You have to do something, Scott!" said Grandma.

"Alright," said Scott. He spoke into his watch. "Family meeting. Lounge, in 10."

Virgil threw down his racket and followed Grandma and Scott to the house.

"What's this about then, Scott?" asked Alan, accompanied by Gordon. Alan was still using a walking stick. Although he could manage without it, he still tired easily and needed a little support. He laid it on the floor when he sat down.

"We need to do something about Dad," said Scott.

"Tell me about it!" said Alan. He hardly ever comes out of there!" said Gordon,

"I know, and Grandma particularly is very worried about his health, physical and mental."
Grandma sniffed. "He has only just got over a serious injury himself, and there he is risking his health," she sobbed.

"What can we do, Scott? He's talking to John, reading him stories, singing to him. What's wrong with that? It might help John get better!" said Gordon.

"Are you on the same planet as Dad? John isn't going to wake up. He's brain dead, alright!" Scott completely blew his top.

Gordon clenched his fists. "What's the matter with you? He's your brother, for God's sake. You can't write him off like that!"

"I'm sorry, Gordon. I'm writing him off. But someone who is brain dead can't wake up."
"Yeah," said Virgil. "It's just the machines keeping him alive."

"Well, when me and Brains were in there alone, his heart kept stopping. Now it doesn't! So he's getting better!" said Gordon.

"No, he isn't. The doctors just got him more stable."

"How could they do that?" asked Gordon, growing angry.

"Because they have considerably more skill than you do!" said Scott.

"Hey, we did our best!"

"Well it wasn't good enough, was it? Stop dreaming, Gordon, be a man and face it."

"Look, there's nothing we can do. Dad's going to stay in there until John finally goes."
"Maybe we should switch off the machines," said Scott.

"Dad would never allow it!" said Gordon.

"Would he have to know?" asked Scott.

"Of course he would have to now, you idiot! What, are you going to go in there, march past him and do it?"

"Don't call me an idiot, you bastard!"

"Say that to my face, you asshole!" said Gordon, and strode over to him.

Virgil jumped in between them. "What the hell is going on here? Are you actually fighting while Dad really needs us? If he was himself he'd go nuts! Break it up, you guys!"

Scott and Gordon both looked sheepish. They smiled nervously at each other, and then embraced.

"I'm sorry, man!" said Scott.

"I'm sorry too. I'm just finding it hard to let him go, I mean, he's my brother."
"He's our brother too, Gordy, " said Virgil and Alan, almost in unison.

"And mine," said Scott. "We all feel the same way, Gordon. But we have to do something!"
"Yeah, I know." Gordon sniffed.

"Look, I'll have one last go at convincing Dad. But then we're going to have to talk about this again."

The brothers eyed each other with grief and responsibility.

"Dad, can I talk to you for a minute?" asked Scott, putting his head around the door of the sickroom.

"What?"
"How are you?"
"I'm fine!" snapped Jeff. "Now what do you want? Going to try and make me take those damn pills, I suppose!"

"I would like you to take them, but I won't make you."
"Damn right, you won't!"

"Dad, we need to talk about John."
"Look, how many times do I have to tell you this? He'll wake up! I am not entertaining any other outcomes."
"But he's brain dead."
"I know he'll wake up!"

"How?"
"I just know."
"You're going to have to be clearer than that. If there is genuinely something we can do to help John, you have to let us know. So how can he wake up, even though he's brain dead?"
"Someone told me he would."
"Dad, we've had a whole bunch of doctors in here giving you second, and never ending opinions. They all said the same thing. He's brain dead, and he's not going to wake up!"
"Why are you talking like that about your brother?"
"It's got nothing to do with how I feel, Dad, I'm just facing the facts. You need to do the same," said Scott, caringly.

"The person who told me wasn't a doctor."
"Who was it?"

"It was your mother."

"Okay." Scott closed his eyes and bowed his head.

Scott went back to report to the family in the lounge.

"He's delusional."