This fic is totally the fault of Sineater, who posted the first chapter up again recently and it garnered some interesting comments from LadyRazorsharp and from Bonsaiiiiiii on Tumblr.

So they got my muse running again...

Chapter One appears in my Whump Collection.

In the grand scheme of things there were important dates and important people. These were important to various people for various reasons. (That made more sense in his head.)

For example, 1066 was a Very Important Date to British people as they were invaded by France. There was also 5th November. He forgot what year, but he knew that tiny island celebrated the attempt to blow up their government once a year.

('You can't call the UK tiny. You live on a tiny island. Theirs is huge by comparison' his tired brain supplied.)

Then for the Americans they had 1607 - the founding of the first colonies, followed by 4th July when they also rebelled against the ruling government – aka The British – and became their own nation.

(He shifted uncomfortably. Then stopped as it quickly became evident that that was a big mistake.)

Important people were an interesting idea to ponder. Who or what made a person important?

Was it Galileo Galilei, the so-called Father of astronomy and physics? Was it Leonardo Da Vinci, painter, creator, inventor extraordinaire?

Could it be Louis Pasteur? Alexander Fleming? Edward Jenner? What about Albert Einstein? Nicola Tesla? Thomas Edison? Alexander Graham Bell?

And what of his father's heroes: Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Virgil Grissom?

(His head hurt with all this thinking. And remembering his father made his heart hurt. And why was he even thinking about this?)

He had his own heroes, of course. The Wright brothers, Werner Von Braun, Frank Whittle to name a few. He also had important dates. 8th October, 15th August, 14th February and 12th March. 5th June, his parents wedding.

His breathing hitched and he tried to get more comfortable. That was a big mistake, increasing the pressure on his chest and causing even more pain. He clung to his thoughts to keep him conscious.

He wondered if anybody would consider him important. Sure he knew his brothers did, but in the grand scheme of things he was merely a spec, a person who hadn't really contributed much to the world at large.

No-one would really miss a washed-out air force captain, even if he had spent the rest of his life helping people. And if he thought about it further, that was just fine by him. He'd never wanted or liked being the centre of attention that the accident of his birth gave him, even if he lived with it uncomplainingly.

He needed to cough, but he knew it would be a Bad Idea. He really couldn't think of a more unglamourous way to die. There was some comfort here though. At least he didn't have to worry about his brothers. They weren't here. Virgil and Gordon were on the other side of the planet dealing with a stranded tanker, and both Alan and John were helping with a certain space station that had a serious malfunction.

A part of him wondered about Kayo, but their chief of security and covert ops was currently undercover for the GDF. He frowned, and even that hurt, as he couldn't remember the last time he had spoken to Kayo, and a strange pain formed at the thought. He loved his sister dearly, even if they didn't often see eye-to-eye.

Something above him shifted, causing dust and debris to rain down and a sharp pain tore a scream from him. Blackness entered his vision. But with it came voices, welcome noise into the silence.

A sigh escaped him, and he let himself go.

Scott Tracy may not be important in the grand scheme of things, but in the little world he inhabited, he was.