"Where's my wife? I want to see my wife!"
The bellowed words echoed around the quiet corridors of the hospital, a sound that, for anyone that knew John Tracy, would have thought him incapable of making. John didn't yell, he didn't scream, he didn't demand, he did everything with cool, calm logic. But, hearing his brother crash through the doors and run along the corridor as if the hounds of hell were at his heels, Scott realised that most people didn't know him at all, not when it came to his family. There was only one person that would be able to calm him down when he was in such a mood, one person that understood him better than anyone else, but that person was currently the reason he had lost his mind with worry.
"Sir, sir you need to calm down," a nurse called, bravely planting herself in front of the charging bull that was the space monitor, still in his IR blues, his eyes flashing with fiery rage.
"No, I need to see my wife, where is she?" John screeched to a stop, his chest heaving as he fought to control his emotions. He knew that he shouldn't be shouting, he knew that he needed to communicate properly, hell communications was his job, but right then he didn't care about what was right or proper, he only cared about his wife.
It had always been his standard procedure to monitor her car at all times, just as he did with his brothers crafts, she was no different. In fact, due to her reluctance to fly the thing, it was more for her benefit than his.
He knew she was out with Alan, so he wasn't the slightest bit concerned, casting nothing more than a cursory eye over her screen every few minutes. They had barely moved, crawling through the London traffic, it being one of the only cities that still insisted on its iconic black taxi cabs and housed people too stubborn to give up their wheels. People like his wife. He knew that she avoided public transport for long journeys, not liking the mixture of emotions, thoughts and feelings that seeped through her defences. That and the fact that she had fought hard to learn to drive in the first place and refused to give up that independence.
The screen had caught his attention as the car's little symbol, a broom in their standard triangle, had started moving again, clearly out of the jam. He'd watched it for a second or two but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. He had been about to look away again when, blip, it had vanished.
He'd frowned, giving the screen his full attention now, his fingers tapping first this and then that as he tried to diagnose the problem. But it hadn't been his screens, it hadn't been his system, the car had gone fully offline. Not parked up, not turned off, offline. Completely gone.
He'd scrambled then, yelling to Scott to get moving, to find their last location. Her comm was registering as at their apartment and, while Alan's was still registering a signal, which he immediately sent to Scott, it was showing location only, the communications side of it offline.
Something had happened, he'd felt it deep down in his soul. He'd closed his eyes, reaching out to their spiritual connection as she had taught him, but he felt nothing. That blankness, that hole where his wife should be had scared him more than anything else in the world ever could.
He'd kept trying, searching for it as Scott had shot across the Pacific. He'd kept trying as Virgil, who had already been out on a rescue with Gordon, had diverted, pushing his engines to their maximum to catch up to their speeding brother. He tried and tried until eventually he felt it, a tiny flicker, the briefest flash. He'd almost collapsed, the relief so intense. He'd concentrated, tried to pull her essence in closer, and then he'd felt it, the burning pain that ripped through his stomach like a knife. It was there one second, gone the next, leaving him panting, but he knew exactly what it was. She was hurt.
He tried to stay calm as Scott raced to the scene. Tried to stay calm as his brother reported back that there had been an accident, a four car pile up on the motorway, her car in the middle, a driverless cab wedged against the driver's side door.
Virgil had arrived, his brothers stepping in to help when the ambulance and fire service were dealing with other casualties as they waited for their equipment to arrive, unable to get to Selene and Alan. It had been Virgil, with his exo-suit, that had shoved aside the passengerless cab, that had ripped her door off, peeling the roof back like he was opening a tin can, freeing her for the waiting crews.
It had been Gordon that had gotten a surprisingly unhurt Alan out of the car and into an ambulance, his cosplay armour crumpled but having done its job in protecting him. It had been Grandma that had forced Virgil to send her med scans before she would allow the ambulances to take them.
Fuck International Rescue, fuck needing to monitor, fuck everything but his need to be with his wife and to see that she was alive. He'd called for EOS to ready the elevator, alerting the GDF to the fact they would be offline for an unknown time, the only concession he was prepared to make, and then he'd thrown himself inside the waiting capsule.
"Who is your wife, sir?"
The nurse's voice brought him back to earth with a bump. "Selene," he forced out from between dry lips. "Selene Tracy."
"I'm afraid we don't have anyone under that name," the nurse said, checking her tablet. "We do have a Selene Tempest."
"That's her, but it's Tracy," John insisted. "That's my wife and she's a Tracy."
"OK, I'll get that amended. She's in theater at the moment and her brother is resting in one of our private rooms, he's in much better shape than she was."
"Theater? How bad is she? Take me to her."
"Sir, as I've already told you, she's currently being operated on, you can't see her yet. How about I get you a cup of tea and-"
"I don't want tea! I want to know what's happening to my wife!"
"John!" Scott called as he jogged down the corridor, coming to a stop beside his brother. John spun round to face him, his eyes registering his relief.
"Scott? Have you seen her? Is she alright?"
"She's down there, Gordon's waiting in the relatives room, Virg is with Alan so I came to get you. Dad and Grandma are inbound, they're going to pick Celia and Adam up on the way." Scott tried to steer John in the direction of the relatives room as he spoke but his brother refused to be shepherded anywhere, planting his feet firmly.
"I asked you a question and you didn't answer it. Is she alright?"
"The doctors are doing their job and she's a fighter. She'll pull through, I promise you. But you need to come with me and wait. "
John's eyes searched Scott's face, checking for any sign that his brother might be lying to him in even the smallest of ways. Finally, he nodded his acceptance, allowing Scott to lead him through the winding corridors to the relatives room. Gordon looked up as they entered, his face pale and pinched with worry.
"Any news?" Scott asked.
"Not yet."
John sat down heavily in a chair, his head dropping into his hands as he tried to calm his racing thoughts. Every time he stopped for even a second he got a flashback to the images he'd seen projected from the headcams in his brothers helmets. He couldn't help picturing the crushed body of the car, the blood covering her face, the scared look in Alan's eyes…
The time it had taken for him to get there had been torturous. He'd needed to know what had been happening every single second and, probably unwisely, had monitored the situation, following every move his brothers had made.
He'd seen her, slumped over the steering wheel that was wedged against her chest pinning her in place, the side of the car crumpled in around her. He'd watched as a brace had been wrapped around her neck and a backboard slid down behind her to support her spine before she had been lifted out of the car, the roof and door completely removed by Virgil.
Scott had followed her and Alan to the ambulance, giving the crew all the information he could before racing ahead in One to meet them at the hospital. Virgil and Gordon had remained behind to help, knowing that it was what she would have told them to do.
John got to his feet, needing to move, to pace, his anxiety crawling like ants over his skin. He took a few deep breaths, knowing that the worst thing he could do was allow his panic to overtake him. While he'd been rushing to get there he'd been occupied. He'd needed to reposition Thunderbird Five over London and wait for EOS to find and clear a sixteen minutes window to allow the elevator to descend and reascend through an unobstructed airspace. Then he'd had to locate the part of the hospital that she had been brought to.
All of that had taken time and while he'd been focused on that he'd just about managed to keep his emotions in check. Now that he had nothing to do but wait he was assaulted by image after image of his wife, lying on an operating table, alone and vulnerable while he was stuck outside with no clue as to what they were doing to her. Knowledge was everything to him, it was the one thing he could rely on to always be factual and predictable. When he was without knowledge he felt adrift, cut off from that part of himself that allowed him to make rational decisions, the part of him that allowed him to cope with almost any situation.
"John?"
He turned to the voice, his heart jumping into his throat when he saw Virgil pushing Alan through the door.
"He refused to stay in bed," Virgil said. "So the doctors gave him permission to wait here with us as long as he didn't walk anywhere."
John nodded, his eyes sweeping over his youngest brother, cataloguing the injuries that he could see. Gordon had been right, Alan was pretty much intact. He had his arm in a sling, but no cast on it, he had a bandage around his head that was tinged with blood, but, while his face was bruised and puffy, his nose was as straight as ever, meaning he hadn't broken it as often happened when an airbag deployed. He was littered with little cuts from flying glass and bruises that were just starting to bloom. No doubt they would be a spectacular colour in a few days time. But, for now he seemed more shaken than hurt.
John forced himself to concentrate on his brother, to not think about how his wife must look. From what little he knew about the crash it was clear that Selene's side of the car had taken the brunt of the impact. He shuddered, taking a deep breath in order to push down the ever increasing anxiety and the sick feeling that came with it. His stomach churned, making him glad he'd once again missed lunch because otherwise it might have been decorating the inside of a trash can.
"John?" This time it was Alan who spoke to him, breaking through the panic that threatened to drown him.
"I'm OK," he pushed out, clearing his throat before he tried to speak again. "I'm more concerned with you. How do you feel? You're not in pain or anything?"
Alan tried to shrug, his face creasing up in pain at the movement. "That was stupid." He straightened up taking the pressure off his recently relocated shoulder. "I'm fine, a bit sore but they gave me something that's keeping it under control. I got lucky."
"Yeah, you did," Virgil said, pushing his chair further into the room and parking him in the gap next to Scott's chair. "I'm gonna see if I can get us some coffees. Gordo, come with me?"
"Oh, yeah, sure. I mean... I guess I could," Gordon stuttered, his eyes flicking back and forth between his brothers and the door. When no one was forthcoming with any more information he hauled himself to his feet and followed through the door that Virgil held open for him.
John's feet started moving again, the need to pace riding him hard. It was that, hide himself away somewhere, or risk turning into a cat in the middle of a hospital, which he was pretty sure would get him kicked out.
His mind was racing, conjuring up scenario after scenario, seeing their car shudder and buckle as it was hit, seeing his family tossed around like rag dolls in their seats.
"I need to know what happened," he blurted out before he even knew he was going to do it. He swallowed hard, wishing he could take the words back but at the same time not regretting them. "I have to know, my brain...it just won't stop."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Scott started but John cut him off with a glare.
"That's not your decision to make. That's my wife lying in there with God knows what happening to her and I need to know what happened to cause this before I go crazy!"
Alan and Scott stared at him. He didn't blame them. His hands curled into fists, his nails biting deep into the flesh of his palm. The pain helped, clearing his mind just enough for him to regain a little control over his emotions. Enough, at least, for him to attempt to ask again.
"I need to know, because that's what I do." He sucked in a breath, trying to keep his composure. "I analyse, I get all the details, and that helps me to see the situation clearly. Until I know exactly what actually happened I won't be able to stop picturing what might have." He stopped there, not knowing how else to explain the thoughts jumbling around in his head.
"Are you sure?" Alan asked quietly.
John nodded. He'd never been surer. "The truth can't be any worse than what I'm imagining."
Alan glanced at Scott, whether it was for approval or backup, John didn't know, nor did he care. All that mattered was the short nod that Scott gave Alan.
"I want to know everything, from the moment you left the event. Every single detail no matter how insignificant it seems."
Alan sucked in a steadying breath, wincing when the action put pressure on his bruised chest, but it didn't stop him from doing as his brother asked.
"We left the con after Aezethril, sorry, Sylvester, had finished his Q and A. He was revealing details about the relaunch of his interactive Cavern Quest," Alan started, continuing when John nodded. "We were heading back to Sel's apartment-"
"Our apartment," John interrupted. He didn't know why he'd felt the need to emphasise that. It never normally bothered him when people still referred to it as Selene's flat, but right at that moment he needed to feel every single connection he had to his wife, no matter how insignificant it seemed.
Alan didn't argue. "Your apartment," he corrected. "We were on one of those weird roads, you know the two lane freeways they have here?"
"A dual carriageway," Scott supplied for him.
"That's the one. So we were on the freeway and the signs above started telling us to reduce our speed and flashed up a limit of 40 miles-per-hour. The traffic in front of us started to slow so Sel did too, dropping right down to thirty and then to twenty, and lower until we came to a complete stop."
Scott was leaning forward in his chair, listening intently to Alan's story, as was John. Alan could tell that his brother was making a mental note of everything, building up a picture, cataloguing it and filing it away in his head.
"We were there for maybe fifteen minutes, barely moving more than a few metres every minute or two. Sel had ordered food for when we got back but knew we'd be late and didn't want it to be delivered when we weren't there. She asked me to call and ask them to hold the delivery but my phone was dead. I reached into her bag to find hers but you know what that thing is like, it swallows everything."
Scott let out a tiny snort, unable to stop himself. It was true, her bag was the stuff of legends, equal parts wonder and complete disbelief at the things it held. John didn't react, so he motioned for Alan to continue.
"Since we had stopped, Sel twisted around in her seat, reaching into the back to find it herself. It was only because she had moved that I saw it."
"Saw what?" John demanded, desperate to get to the point but also not wanting to hear another thing.
"The car. It was one of those driverless cabs. It came out of nowhere. It was on the other side of the freeway. It swerved out of its lane and launched itself across the grass strip that separates the lanes and came straight at us. There was nowhere we could go and no time to react anyway." Alan stopped there, closing his eyes for a second and Scott noticed that his foot was bouncing up and down on the footplate of his wheelchair, a sure sign that he was agitated.
"You don't have to say anything else, Al," he said gently. He appreciated that John was scared as hell for his wife, and Scott didn't blame him in the slightest, but Selene hadn't been the only one involved in that accident. The last thing he wanted was for Alan to be traumatised any further by reliving it.
"No, it's OK, I'm OK, " Alan assured him. "I just needed a minute. I think I need to talk about it."
"Alright," Scott agreed, "but remember that you can stop any time."
"I think I yelled a warning, but I don't know why, there was nothing we could have done. The car smashed right into the driver's side. The impact pushed us across the lane and into the cars in front and beside us." Alan spoke in an emotionless tone, reporting the facts exactly as he would on a rescue, it was the only way he could continue to recount the details that kept running around in his head.
"As the cab hit the side airbags detonated and then the front ones seconds later. I think I was knocked out for a minute or two because the next thing I remember is steam pouring out from under the hood and the sound of screaming coming from the other cars. Sel was out for a little longer than me, but when she came round she was talking," he paused, choking back a laugh that he felt would be highly inappropriate.
John stiffened, one eyebrow arching, throwing out a silent question that quite clearly screamed what the fuck is there to laugh about?
"She was complaining she was bored," Alan quickly explained. "She started bitching about having to sit there and not move and demanded that I entertain her."
Scott barked out a disbelieving laugh, unable to hold it in. "That's our girl."
Even John's lips twitched and Alan was pleased to see his brother's shoulders unstick themselves from around his ears and relax a fraction of an inch. If she had been coherent and aware enough to not only converse with Alan but to start demanding, he was even more certain that she would be fighting her hardest in that operating room.
"She made me tell her a story," Alan rushed on, the words coming a little easier now. "She asked about my space licence and made me tell her all about my training, she had some very impolite things to say about some of the guys at Tracy College but by the end she…" he swallowed, the ease in which his words had flowed coming to an abrupt halt, the words catching in his throat.
"She what?" John promoted impatiently.
"She had passed out again," Alan choked out. He seemed to deflate then, sinking back into his chair, trying desperately to hold back the tears that pricked at his eyes. He wasn't aware of the way Scott tensed or how John resumed his pacing, his mind was filled with the memories of the accident. "I tried to wake her up, but she didn't respond. I told her that you guys were on your way, I promised her that you would come, that we always come."
"And we did," Scott told him, reaching for his arm. "We got there in time."
"But what if you hadn't?" Alan asked quietly, his voice quivering. "What if she had died and it was all my fault?"
"Your fault?" Confusion was strong in Scott's voice.
"She reached for me," Alan whispered, his voice dropping even lower, so much so that Scott had to lean in closer to hear him. "It all happened so quickly, I yelled, she turned to look out of her window, saw the cab and she still managed to shove me back against my seat before it hit us. She protected me, when I should have been the one to protect her. It's my fault."
"Allie, no," Scott whispered, trying to pull his brother closer, but John got there first. In four quick strides he'd crossed the room, dropped down into a chair, yanked Alan's closer and enfolded him in his arms.
Alan had grown into a strong, capable young man, one that John was so proud to call his brother, but now, with his arms wrapped around the trembling body, he seemed so small all over again.
"I'm sorry," Alan gulped, clinging tightly to John with the arm that wasn't immobilised by its sling, his face buried in his brother's chest. "I'm so sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for," John promised him, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Alan's back as guilt assaulted him. He'd been so harsh, making Alan tell him what had happened so soon after the accident. Alan always seemed so mature, so capable, that they sometimes forgot that he was still so young. "You didn't do anything wrong, you did everything right. You kept her calm, you talked to her, you probably stopped her being as scared as she would have been without you there. You did good."
"But what if I caused it?" Alan whispered.
John felt those words like a punch to the gut. What was he talking about? What could he have possibly done to cause such a thing to happen? "Why would you even say that? Al, answer me. Why would you think this could possibly be your fault?"
"Sel believes in the power of words," Alan finally answered. "She believes in fate and not to tempt it. But what if I did?"
John let loose a soft little snort. "I'm sure there was nothing you said or did that could have caused this, tempting fate or not."
"It was an accident, Allie," Scott promised him, moving his seat closer to their huddle.
"But what if it wasn't?" Alan protested. "I asked you that."
"Asked me what?" John was beyond confused. Alan hadn't asked him anything, they hadn't even spoken that day. Alan had stayed over with Sel at their apartment the night before and they had been out together all day. Hell, he hadn't even done more than exchange a few good morning texts with Selene as she rushed around getting ready.
"The other day I asked you and Sel what you would do if something happened to one of you. I asked what would happen if one of you died."
John stilled, his breath catching in his throat, remembering the conversation all too well. Alan shifted, pulling back from his embrace to look up at him with hurt filled eyes. His little brother needed him to say something, anything to make him feel better.
"You aren't to blame." He swallowed, trying to find the right words. If Sel had been there she'd have said it for him, she always knew just what to say to make someone feel better, it was one of her gifts. Not having her there hurt more than anything. It felt like he was missing a limb, a part of him that he hadn't realised how much he relied on until it wasn't there.
Scott cleared his throat as if he were about to say something, but John ploughed on. If Selene wasn't there to do it then he'd have to do it for her. "As you said, Sel believes in fate. So, if she were here, the first thing she'd tell you was that tempting fate is bullshit. Things happen for a reason, events are set in motion that push us along the path that we are supposed to take. You did nothing wrong, so get that thought out of your head right now. Because you know, when she wakes up, she's going to yell at you for even daring to think about it."
Scott relaxed a little, leaning back in his chair now that he knew John was handling the situation. If it had been any other time John would have been annoyed at Scott's action, he was just as capable as anyone, but right at that moment he was tired, far too tired to get angry about anything.
"She'll be alright, won't she?"
John wanted to say yes, a hundred percent, yes. But he couldn't. Because he didn't know that, not for sure. John never lied, not even to himself and the truth was he didn't have all the facts. Hell, he didn't have any facts at all. All he knew was that his wife was injured and being operated on. He didn't know how bad and he didn't know if she would be alright at all.
The anxiety that had lowered while he'd been distracted focusing on Alan came roaring back. He needed to know what was happening, he needed to have the facts, solid, reliable, facts that he could count on. He needed data, he needed something to analyse. Something that he could focus on and put his mind to to clear his thoughts.
But he had nothing. No news. No clue as to how his wife was. Nothing but a gaping chasm in his knowledge and a wave of worry that was threatening to drown him.
What if Alan was right? What if their conversation had triggered something? What if fate really had decided that this was her time? He wasn't ready to be without her, he never would be. His heart thumped in his chest, the breath catching in his throat.
Why had this happen to her? They shouldn't be here, they should be at home, in front of the T.V. with the takeout she had promised to buy. He was supposed to join her and Alan when they got home, he was going to listen to their stories of the fun day they had had, look at their pictures and try not to be too shocked at how much stuff she had brought home with her to fill up the junk cupboard he'd cleaned out.
"John?" Scott's voice sounded distant, like he was talking from the end of a long tunnel.
She should be by his side, healthy, whole and above all, safe. He'd give anything to have that right now, to have her there with him. She would know what to say to Alan. If it had been anyone else that was lying unconscious on an operating table, anyone else that needed comfort, she would have been the one they turned to. She always knew just what to say and how to act to make people feel better. She was always there when they needed her. She was their rock. But what did you do when it was your rock that was broken?
He needed her. He needed her and she wasn't there. He tried to suck in a breath but his chest felt too tight, too restricted. He shouldn't be feeling this way. He was being selfish, worrying that he needed her when in reality she needed him far more. She needed him to be strong, she needed him to be there when she woke up, because she would wake up, she wouldn't allow anything less.
"I..." he stopped, his mouth closing with a snap. He sat back in his chair, his hands resting on his knees, fingers of his left counting out a tapping rhythm. Pinky finger to thumb, ring finger to thumb, middle finger to thumb, forefinger to thumb, then back again, forefinger, middle, ring, pinky. His tapping fingers felt cold to the touch, numb.
His wife was a fighter. She might be a Tracy by marriage but she'd always been one at heart. She never gave up, she never took no for an answer. She refused to back down and would fight for the things she wanted. She wouldn't leave him. She'd promised. And he knew full well that if it had been the other way around, if he had been the one that was lying there, he'd be doing everything in his power to fight, to get back to her.
She needed him and he would be there for her.
"I…" he tried again. What did he say? What could he say? Finally he nodded, hoping that it would be enough. He nodded to indicate he was alright, to indicate that she would be OK, to indicate that he could hear, he was there, he was present.
His fingers stilled, a rush of determination pushing aside the anxiety that wanted to own him. He shoved it away, pushing it ruthlessly down into the mental box in his head and slammed the lid shut.
He didn't have time to worry. He couldn't fall apart now. He had to be strong. For both of them.
"Thank God we finally found you!"
"We got here as fast as we could!"
"Is there any news?"
"What's going on? Is she OK?"
A bubble of noise enveloped them as the door burst open, admitting Jeff, Sally and Celia with Adam bringing up the rear.
"No news yet."
Scott had answered for him, giving him a chance to finish pulling himself together. He straightened his back, lifting his chin stubbornly, his eyes clear and focussed. He might not have all the information but he had his mission and he was determined to ace it.
"How are you doing, son?" Jeff, leaving Celia and Grandma in the capable hands of Scott, materialised by John's side.
"I'm fine."
"Not to say that I don't believe you, but would you tell me if you weren't?"
John thought about it for a second. He knew that if he lied about it his dad would know. Slowly he shook his head.
"I didn't think so." Jeff patted his shoulder. "I won't push you, son, but just know that, if at any time you don't feel fine, I'm right here."
"I know. Thanks, Dad."
-x-
"Anyone want another coffee?" Virgil asked, his fingers flexing around his own empty cup.
"We've had three already," Gordon pointed out. He groaned as he stretched in the uncomfortable chair, his back protesting having sat still for so long. "It's been four hours, they should have let us know something by now."
"You're right." John got to his feet. "I'm going to find a doctor or something, I can't just keep sitting here."
"We're all worried," Jeff started. "But I'm sure they would let us know the second they have anything to tell."
"I can't wait any longer, that's my wife in there and-"
"Tracy family?"
Nine heads snapped towards the door where a tired looking doctor stood.